Dearest
by Adela Rose
Summary: Christine Daae tells her story about finding truth. An Angel promises to save her from her life, while a Phantom terrorizes her sanity. This story my evolution as a writer, so I've started the process of editing and tweaking the beginning.
1. Dearest

_Only one person, in the hundreds that were involved, changed for the better. Only one tried to atone for the mistakes that contributed to the horrors that had taken place._

_But, I'm sure that if you ask him, he will agree that one was enough._

_My story is quite different from the story you are expecting. It is of love, of great passion, of horror, and of tragedy…But mostly it is about us. It is about the teacher and the student, the songbird and the rose, the guardian and the angel. It is about me, for my story is great…But it is about my darling as well. It is about a man who was born a contradiction to society and grew up with the truth. It is about a man who despised society with every fiber in his being, yet longed to be ignorant and part of it. It is about man who lived alone, gazing into the cave, longing for just a single person to walk out of it and join him, and then finally going in and dragging one out to be with him forever._

_It is about my love, my friend, and my teacher._

_My dearest Erik._


	2. Conditioning

Conditioning

I remember my life before the Opera house. It was full of laughter and love, of silly a childhood that never seemed to end. My mother had lived until my sixth year, until she died of a sickness that would later be known as cancer. She had been beautiful, as the few photographs that I have of her show, and she had been a very talented singer. She was full of spirit and excitement, yet she was respected as a nice, proper lady. But since she was taken from me so young, I cannot honestly say that I miss her terribly. I miss the idea of a mother, I suppose, but I had never felt her true absence in my life.

My father was my entire life. I doubt there ever was a more devote child then I had been. I loved him with all of my little heart, and he adored me in return. We clung to one another, for we were all that was left of any kind of family. I wish he would have pushed me away from him, so I had a chance at growing a little independent of him, yet I think that out of the two of us, he clung tighter to me then I did to him.

When my mother died, my father took me from our modest home, and we travelled through Europe. We were not poor…We had been among the upper middle class, surely not aristocratic, yet we were not shunned either. We mingled with the people "above" us, yet boundaries were set to how close our families could get with each other. Yet despite these restrictions, we had made dear friends with some who had larger hearts then egos.

My dear Mamma Valérius' was one of the people who took a liking to my humble family. We stayed friends with them, thank God, for many years while my father decided to travel Europe. If it wasn't for her, I would have surely starved to death, lost in the world, after my father's death. We met her through my mother, for they had been good friends for many years before my birth, and she remained loyal and kind to us while my father foolishly explored the unknown.

Father took us to almost every corner of Europe, from Sweden to Germany, to England to Spain. We stayed in France the longest, for that is where Mamma Valerius lived, and I soon fell in love with the magical and exciting city of Paris. Mamma Valerius put me through schooling, making sure that I was not behind in and of my lessons. She provided the motherly care that my life lacked, and she made sure that I kept up with my faith and catechism. She disapproved of dragging me all over Europe, with good reason. I was curious and adventurous, which was difficult in a raising a little girl.

"But really Charles, you should think of your daughter. It isn't good for a little girl to be wondering around in the wilderness! For heaven's sake, she's singing on street corners!"

"There is nothing wrong with singing, regardless of where it happens! She is fine, honestly. She likes travelling and seeing new things, my curious little darling. I'd be committing a grave sin should I try to crush her spirit and keep her all locked up!"

From my hiding place, I could hear the change in Mamma Valerius' tone. "It isn't a matter of what she _likes_ Charles, but what is best for her! Honestly, what happens when she becomes of courting age? What will happen if something happens to you while you are roaming around like a beggar?"

She was right, of course. My spirit, my overly adventurous and wild spirit, was crushed almost to death when my father's heart stopped one day. Thankfully, we were in a kind village, one that was fond of their little songbird from across the country. I told them of Mamma Valerius, the only person that I knew of to send for, and she came to collect me straight away.

I lived with her from that day on. She was a very attentive and nurturing woman, one that had always wished to have a child, yet never had the privilege. I sometimes wished I was a better daughter, yet how could I have been? I loved and respected her, yet I never attached myself to her as a child would with a parent. While I recognized her as my saving grave, I never thought of her as my mother.

She gave me the best schooling that a girl could receive. I was already familiar with many languages, but now I learned literature, from Shakespeare to the Greek poems of Homer and Virgil. Mamma Valerius was excited with her new little child, and she attempted to teach me everything she could (I suspect she was also trying to distract me from the absence of my father). Her husband even took to me, teaching me how to ride a horse (sidesaddle, at Mamma Valerius' request), teaching me my mathematics (I was never fond of mathematics, but I endured his lessons because of his enthusiasm). I became a very bright young woman in time, yet my soul still suffered. My heart was in my music, for I identified music with the last thing on this earth that still connected me to my father. Sadly, neither one of my adopted parents was very musical, so I always sang to myself, in private.

My dear Mamma Valerius…She was so selfless. Despite the joy of finally having a child in her home, she could see that I was suffering. I never realized how unselfish she had been…My father had kept me all for himself, selfishly clinging to me in his time of great loneliness. Mamma, my dear adoptive mother, brought me to the Opera house when I was young to study music. Honestly, I doubt she expected me to make a career out of it, but it made me happier to be in a place of music. She thought of my well being, my future, and my happiness above her own, and when I came to realize this (many years later), I finally could see her as the mother that she was.

I was among many children, easily overlooked. All of them were from rich families, hoping to extend their talents in order to improve their appeal. I never grew close to any of these children, but I did bond with the children that actually lived at the Opera house. Meg remains one of my closest friends, yet we had been much closer at that time then we are now. After lessons ended, after all of the other children left the Opera house, I remained behind. I was about fifteen at the time, and after I talked to Mamma Valerius for awhile, she agreed to let me pursue a career in the Opera house. Part of my desire for doing this was so I could maintain a small amount of independence for myself…Another was my music.

Years went by. It was a useless year of hard work and little improvement on my part, and I was overlooked by all of the directors, but I stayed in the chorus. Nothing changed or improved for me. I moved through every motion, every performance, every rehearsal…I did it all, with never more than mild interest in everything around me. I was a mindless machine, showing little passion in the things that had once filled my life with so much joy.

My life was never more meaningless then these brief years before I finally heard…the voice.


	3. Chosen

Terrifying salvation

I was not noticed by anyone. I had few friends, although the ones I had were indeed close to me. Meg was like my sister, for many years. We bonded not because we had a lot in common, but instead, we were both alone and overlooked in the Opera House. We found one another, as similar lost souls, and we grabbed onto each other and clung for dear life. In time, we developed similarities and likenesses, and soon we were inseparable. She knew me better than anyone else in the Opera House, yet she still overlooked the changes within me.

These changes were small. It's a little hard to say when these changes started…I never truly noticed. I never noticed how truly uninterested I became in my reading, how I had felt no excitement towards the upcoming balls and parties, how little I cared about progressing in my career at the Opera house. The only joy I had…The only thing I looked forward to, my entire day, was going to sleep at night.

I had no dreams, yet I looked forward to my dark blackness. My body was never truly tired…My spirit was exhausted. My spirit tried to rest, but it grew more and more weary every day. It was wounded, unbeknownst to me, by the constant battles fought with the outside world, and it became too weary too carry my body for too long. I began to sleep every chance I had, sneaking into costume rooms, the little chapel, any quiet place that I could find, I took a sweet nap. I was suspected of being lazy for this, and I was mocked by many of the members of the Opera house, for no one saw that I was not lazy…Just suffering.

My spirit hurt with every breath I took. Sometimes I lost my voice, and I could not speak for hours, while desiring within to scream out my frustrations. I would sometimes look around me, in a thick daze, and see only people, disconnected from me completely. There were moments I would do something…Return a smile, participate in small talk, complete the motions of proper behavior…It was as if I was somewhere else, and I was watching myself do all of the things I had been raised to do. I wanted to scream, to shout, yet I did not know what I wanted to shout, or why I needed to do so. When I wanted to speak…truly speak, unrestrained and unlimited, I could not. I was invisible to the world…Yet I continued to move about in it, as some kind of mindless machine would. My spirit was not nurtured in this environment, and because it was ignored in this society, it began to wither.

It was slowly fading…I became little more than a statue that responded when spoken to, reacted when there was a cause….But what else?

The first time I heard the voice…It was not in a comfortable dressing room, as most stories will have it happen. I was not weeping, or begging heaven for help, nor was I in any distress in which I needed saving. I heard it, at the end of a very strange day.

There was a bird. An ordinary bird, a finch of some kind I suppose, was in a cage next to me. I looked at the cage for a moment, confused about what this bird was doing next to me. The note on the side said it was a gift…A horrible gift, in my opinion, but the card on the side told me who thought it had been a good idea. Raoul...a man struck with a strange case of infatuation…had sent me yet another gift. He was always sending me little things, to remind me that he was pleased with my attention (I never gave him 

the attention that I am often blamed for giving him. He took me to dinner, spoke to me about whatever he wished to speak about, and I sat there and listened to him. He thought me a charming, delicate little lady, the perfect example of what he was conditioned to desire for in a woman. In my passive, dull state, perhaps I did appear so, yet it was not with any effort on my part). He seemed to enjoy sending me little gifts, but he never looked to see if I kept or treasured these trinkets. Normally, he would send me something that was easy to shove into a drawer, or easy to throw away, yet what was I going to do with a bird?

I watched it in its cage…Something stirred within me, and I had a small moment of unexplained anger at the stupid cage. The bird wanted so badly to fly into the world, yet it was kept within bars…Cruelty.

Without thinking about this, I lifted the cage to the window, and opened the little door. I waited, yet the bird, despite all of its desire to be free, would not leave. I waited a little longer, yet it wouldn't leave.

"You are free," I whispered. It looked at me, but it still didn't move. I shook the cage, and although it seemed frightened, it would not leave. "Leave, silly creature! You can leave…Why do you stay?"

It heard me again, yet it didn't do anything. Finally, having no more patience for the bird's failure to do what I subconsciously wished I could do, I reached in and took the little bird in my hand. I put it on the window sill…And watched. It looked around and realized where it was…And that the bars were gone. It didn't leave at first, shivering at being so free, and finally it flew away.

In my room, I went to sleep in my bed, not thinking about my silly bird. But a voice…It filled my thoughts, and as I feel asleep, it filled my dreams. I dreamed of sweet colors, of kind words, of strange feelings, of clouds, and birds, and sky…It was an open field, then it was a beautiful ocean, things that I could move within forever, yet never reach a single wall. It sucked the damaging sickness out of my soul, giving it sweet strength that it craved to keep going. I could breathe without flinching, move without worry…I was unrestrained and free, having the ability to scream and laugh and shout at complete will. The song in my dream…The _voice_ in my dream…It showed me my freedom. It showed me what I was hoping for and what my life lacked. Suddenly, from within a dream, I had sudden clarity of my life and my position. I was to find this freedom, this dream of bliss and liberation. That is what I had been searching for, all this time…Even from my subconscious state; I could feel myself understand suddenly.

I remember whispering something…I thought an angel was there with me, so I spoke thanks to the angel. But within moments of speaking them, I fell back into my dreamland, not willing to give this sweet peace up yet.

That was the night that my fate was sealed. I say that I had been 'chosen' that night, but he swears there had never been a choice involved. It was always going to be me…It was just a matter of when.


	4. Dreams

Dreams

My story slows down from here. Before this point, I was able to quickly explain things and how they happened, but no point before this was as important as the events coming up. This is important. If it were possible to go over every single moment and explain every single moment, I would do so. It would actually be easy for me to explain because I have gone over these moments in my mind a thousand times since then. Over and over again, I've replayed these things in my mind, repeating every word and every action, until I give up. But it would take far too long…and far too much pain…to go over every single moment with as much review as I would like to give it. But these are very important, and I will do my best to explain them fully.

The morning after my dream was one of the rare days in the Opera house when there was nothing to do. For some reason, we did not have any rehearsals or any kind of meetings, so the entire cast and crew had a day of rest. I had planned to go visit my dear Mamma today, but as I lay in bed, looking around my room, I forgot all about her. I looked around my room; as if something would be different about it…Shouldn't something be different about my room? I felt different… Something should have been different because I felt different….Wasn't someone in my room last night?

I sat up, looking further around my room, wondering why I was alone, in this tiny gray room…I noticed, for the first time, the lack of color or design in my room, how utterly dull it was. No pictures hung on my walls, no flowers sat in any little vase on my desk…Utterly dull.

I tried to think of my dream, trying to recall everything in it, but the details were lost to me. I remembered the feelings that I had with the dream, for some of them still lingered, yet the details of the dream were gone. This made me a little angry…Why couldn't I remember the dream? Why couldn't I remember the places that I had dreamed of, the things I had seen or the person I had been with…Had I been with a person at all? I remember calling out to someone…What had I said? Did we speak of anything? Why couldn't I remember?!

Growing frustrated, I leapt out of bed, standing in my light night gown, and I began to search my room for something…I looked for a person, hiding within my tiny room (although I knew that it was impossible to hide in such a small room), I looked for some kind of sign that the world had changed around me, and for just a small thing…Just a small hint of color or life within my room…

Finding nothing, absolutely nothing, I grew even more distressed. I suddenly had an idea, and I ran to my window. I moved over the thick curtains, leaning out my window in only my nightdress, desperate for some kind of color or life other than mine. But the world, although bright, was as colorless as my little gray room. People walked with each other on the sidewalks, birds flew in the sky, yet it was just as lifeless as my little world at the moment. Where were the colors? I couldn't see anything but dullness…Nothing creative, nothing beautiful, and nothing alive…

I moved away quickly and shut the curtains, not wanting to see this world any longer. I wanted to scream out…Please, why wasn't anything any different? I feel different, why is the world….

The world was different, I realized, but not to match my changes. Perhaps I had changed, and the world stayed the same…Or I stayed the same and the world changed around me…Maybe both had changed.

"What is happening?" I asked in a frightened whisper. Nothing answered me, but strangely, I had expected someone to do so. The silence angered me, the colors angered me, the fear angered me…The damn world was making me furious, and I couldn't stop my reaction. I was normally a very passive, gentle person, but the world…Perhaps the spark that had been lit within my spirit…was making me so angry.

I feel back into my bed and let my screams be muffled into my pillow. Terrible moans and sobs came from my room, yet everyone that could have heard me was off enjoying their holiday. I don't know how long I was there, but when I could not cry any longer, I looked up from my pillow. I was ashamed of myself…Why was I being so foolish? Why was I crying so much? What did I want so much that I was so upset over?

And then the singing began again. I was still instantly, shocked at the thrill of hearing the voice while I was awake. If you think that being awake makes a person immune to the effects of the voice, you are wrong. I was taken by it, completely a slave to its will after only a few seconds after it started. It ripped my spirit from my body, making me leave my physical side behind, and I felt my spirit dancing around the room once more. I was singing and laughing, dancing and running, and with my arms raised above my head, I was twirling in complete happiness. I never actually left my bed, but as the voice sang to me, I felt as if I had flown across every continent, swam every ocean…Oh the wonderful relief of being free…

It stopped. I jumped out of my bed, looking around for the voice…My hands out before me, as if trying to grab the voice and keep it with me…No, no, don't leave me, I thought, please stay…

"Come back…Who are you?" I whispered softly…

I waited several seconds, and then the voice said, right into my ear, "I am your angel. Did you ever doubt your father's promise?"

I was shocked into silence. I fell into my bed, needing to sit down after hearing this. No one could ever imagine my distress after hearing my father's forgotten promise. I had completely forgotten his promise of protection and guidance from the Angel of Music. After the first couple of years, I had given up on his promise, and I had forgotten completely.

I was quiet, and in the very real risk of fainting, but the voice spoke again and kept me conscious. "You never needed me before this…You were taken care of by your foster mother…But your soul called for me last night, and I have come for you."

Meekly, (and overly hopefully) I asked, "Are you taking me to heaven now?"

It was silent for a moment, and I feared it was going to leave me, but it spoke after a moment. "…When the time comes, I will be the one to take you away from this place. But your time has not come yet. I am 

here to guide you now…I am here to bring music back to you. Have you forgotten your music, my little nightingale? Have you forgotten how to sing?"

This confused me, for I sang every day. He did not expect an answer though, so he spoke again. "I will always be here with you now, Christine. You will never be alone again…Now sleep, my little one, just sleep now…"

He began to sing to me, before I had a chance to critically think about what he was saying. I was trying to think about his words, trying to think about what he was really saying, but his voice was forbidding me from thinking about what he was saying. In the right state of mind, I would have rejected this idea, or at least I would have sensed something wasn't right…But his voice lulled me, soothed me, and rocked me as if I were just a child. I fell into my bed, very tired…Before I was completely gone, something cold touched my forehead. I heard something near me whisper, "My little one…Soon, my dearest child…soon."

I slept the rest of the day, and all through the night, not having eaten or having anything to drink. The voice stayed with me, singing to me when I began to wake. I can't say I liked or disliked it, for it kept me asleep without my consent, but it was a relief…And I loved the feeling of someone always near me, that I truly wasn't alone, even while I slept.


	5. Reasoning

Reasoning

Loud knocks on my large door woke me up that morning. I could tell that I had been sleeping for a very long time, for my body felt quite stiff. I tried shaking off this feeling, but the lack of food and water (and far too much sleep), made me a little grumpy. I got out of my bed, very irritable, and opened my door. Meg was standing there, looking just as irritated as I felt, holding my ballet frock in her hands.

"Christine! You were supposed to pick this up from Mama yesterday!" I blinked, not remembering what she was talking about. She gave me an impatient look before saying, "The rip in the skirt? Mama was fixing it for you, remember?"

I didn't, but I nodded, giving her an apology. She looked at my face, unsure of what to make of my forgetfulness. It was unlike me, and truthfully, it surprised me as well. She shrugged, and said, "Well, I have it for you now. We have to get to rehearsal soon, so you have to get ready now. Here, let me in. I'll help you…You'll never be ready in time without me." A light smirk on her face told me she was joking now, so I was out of trouble.

I nodded, letting her in without much more thought to it. She closed the door behind her and followed me to my small closet. She watched me, as if trying to solve a puzzle. When we reached the closet, I stopped…I was supposed to get something now, to dress…What was it? I was suddenly very confused…

Meg looked at me, almost alarmed, and went to my closet. She pulled out my things, taking out my dancing corset first, and walked to me. I got undressed for her, and she helped put on my things. She continued to help dress me, as if I was some invalid or a child, she looked at me strangely. I wondered what was different about me that made her look at me so strangely. I didn't think I would be any different…I hope I wouldn't be any different.

She finished tying my corset, and she said, "There now, all finished. What would you do without me?" She smiled wide for her joke, hoping this would bring something out of me, but my mind was completely blank. I forgot how to respond to her…What was I suppose to say again? There was something that I normally said to her…It was as if I had forgotten my line, and I was trying to recall it on stage, with a million people watching me…I knew this, I knew this…

She grew slightly more alarmed, and took my hands in hers. She led me over to my mirror and sat me down in front of it, taking my brush in her hands. She began to brush my wild curls out, looking at my face in the mirror, and for the first time, I looked into my own reflection. I was…pale. Empty. I seemed confused…And I couldn't really recognize anything about myself. I really looked at myself, but I saw someone completely unfamiliar looking back at me.

Meg interrupted my thoughts. "You're awful quiet today, dear." She was making a statement, but her observation was hinting that she wanted an explanation.

I tried to think about what to tell her, but everything was so muddled in my head. I thought about the dream…Was it completely a dream? It seemed strange and so long ago. I had slept for so long, and it 

was hard to tell when my thoughts and dreams had been separate yesterday. I remember the voice…I remember that he spoke to me, and the memory was much too clear and vivid to be a dream. Yet how could it truly happen? No one could have really spoken to me…No Angel, no ghost, and certainly not my father. Those things did not happen in real life. Only in silly children's stories and I was a wise enough woman to know that.

But why was everything so different? Why was I so confused? And why could I remember it so clearly?

"Something happened yesterday Meg…I'm so confused right now…" I whispered to her. She stopped brushing my hair, and true fear and concern came over her face. She put my brush down and knelt beside me.

"What is it Christine? Tell me what's wrong." Her face seemed so soft, so gentle…She was my family, my dear Meg. She was what I needed, not this Angel. My dearest Meg, my sweet little friend…

Tears began to form in my eyes, and I leaned forward to bury my silly tears in her hair. I hugged her tightly, shaking with my pathetic sobs, frightening myself by letting my thoughts get the best of me.

"Oh Meg, I am so frightened…There was a voice in my head yesterday…It kept me asleep, and it invaded my thoughts…It was in my dreams for hours…I felt it in my head, and when I woke up…Oh Meg, it told me it was my father's Angel of Music, and it would never leave me…I'm so scared…I have something haunting me!"

She listened to me all through this, but she pulled back quickly, clearly shocked and disturbed by my words. She shushed me violently, reacting just as I was to the absurd talk of angels and voices. These things were the talk of blasphemy, of things that defied logic and reality. I knew to talk of these things in public was foolish, yet I needed to tell someone what was happening to me. I needed help, but she was as unprepared as I was to deal with this. These were taboo things to speak of…We were talking of the things of gypsies, of witches, and of silly folk stories, not of reality.

She took my face into her hands and held me fiercely. "Stop this! Stop talking like this Christine! You heard nothing…Nothing! You hear me?" She shook my face, trying to get some sense to come to me, trying to get my head out of this darkness. "Christine, my dear, you must listen to me! These things do not happen to people. Believe me…you do believe me don't you?"

I looked into her eyes, her eyes of strength and truth…And of familiarity. I knew her eyes. I knew her eyes and her hair and her face. I knew her words and her world. The world she spoke of…The world I knew, the one that I had lived in ever since my father died…That world didn't have angels or voices or magic. I knew that world, and I clung to it. I nodded slowly, believing her now. My tears began to stop, and my breathing slowed down. "Yes…I believe you…" I whispered.

She breathed relief, leaning forward to press her forehead against mine. Although we were of the same age, she had always been like an older sister to me.

"Good, darling, good. It was a dream…A strange dream, yes, but you were probably ill last night. You seemed to have slept all day…Perhaps you had a slight fever during the night…I should have checked on you, and I had intended to…But strange things kept happening, and I was busy all day. But you seem well now, yes? See, now, no more bad dreams."

She pulled back, relieved that I seemed alright. I nodded again, giving her the answer she wanted. She must have sensed that I was weak, for she asked next, "Have you eaten at all?" I shook my head, and she nodded, using this to help prove her point. "See? Of course you had bad dreams. When you are weak, and your stomach is empty, your mind plays tricks on you. Mama always says that your stomach is the true power behind the mind."

She was right, for her mother did say that. But her mother said it only to warn the ballerinas from refraining from eating, not to assure someone that they were not crazy. I did not argue though…I was so very desperate to believe her. She put my wrap over my arms, and she led me to the kitchens to get me some breakfast.


	6. Agreement

Sooooo sorry for being so late. I just graduated high school (literally, three days ago), and I had a very serious computer crash about a day ago. I lost everything I had, including the chapters to this story. But I'm back working on this, so no more delays!

We practiced all day.

Meg got me a huge breakfast that morning, one that I completely attacked with an appetite that was extremely unladylike. I was too starved to be embarrassed, but I did try to pace myself when I began getting disapproving looks. She found me another large lunch after we had been practicing for a few hours, and when we were finished for the day, she brought me to a very large dinner. I have no idea how she managed to find me such large meals, but since she was very concerned with my health, her determination found a way to get me more food then I deserved in one day. I struggled to eat a good portion of my dinner, but I was soon too full to eat anything else she put before me. She convinced me to drink a good amount of tea, before she brought me back up to my room.

I normally went with her to the social events of the nights. The cast went to bistros, dance halls, or other places after rehearsals, and while I rarely had a good time at one of these places, I always went with Meg to these events. I would sit quietly while the group of people spoke and danced and laughed, but it would be too unbearable to sit by myself late at night. It was expected that a young woman of my age would be social, and I should enjoy these things more. I tried to like these things, and I tried to participate enthusiastically, yet I never seemed to enjoy these things as much as the others did.

Meg said that I should not go out tonight, due to my "weakened state". I protested a little, as I was expected to, but I gave into her wishes quickly. I did not really want to go…In fact, I was very tired, so I went to my room with no struggle. She sat me in front of my mirror after she helped me dress into my nightgown, and she began to brush my hair and talk about all of the latest gossip of the day. None of it was very interesting, so I daydreamed through most of her chatting. Meg, as I had recently noticed, had a habit of repeating a lot of things, but she never actually said anything. But after a couple minutes, she said something that did catch my attention.

"…now, who could blame him? Its no wonder he has health problems. He has to deal with…Well, he always has to be the one that…He must be under a great deal of stress. Anyway, he might be retiring."

This did surprise me. I had not heard anything about that…I did not know the man personally, but if he left, there would be change around here. I did not want anything to change…He had no right to leave us here and just expect us to cope with the new ways that would inevitably come. I was about to voice my opinion (I was obviously very upset, if I was about to voice anything) but Meg continued without noticing my reaction.

"If he does, then everyone would have to re-audition to stay here. I doubt anyone will be cut, but if the managers are from another Opera house, or perhaps they have their own group of actors and singers…Well, some people might be replaced here."

I saw my reflection pale at this comment. This was…horrible. I was lucky to still be in the chorus, but I have not improved much since the day I was hired. I could not be sent away from the Opera house…I would have to go back to Mamma, and my future would hold only two options: Either I would marry someone who could provide well enough for me (my birth did not grant an extremely well marriage), or I would grow to be an old spinster, alone, living off of Mamma's kindness forever. No…I had no idea what I intended to do at the Opera house, nor did I know about the future I had here, but it was something…I didn't realize it then, but it was my inner desire to create my own destiny, my own fate…If I resigned myself to life, I would go back to Mamma and marry or live alone, but I was subconsciously fighting the destiny that seemed to have chosen me.

"Do you think," I asked cautiously, fearful of her answer, "that I would…that I might be let go?"

She laughed, not considering this. "No, dear, you'll be fine."

I did not accept this so easily. "But Meg, I'm not that good. I can't sing very well, and I can't dance very well either. I haven't improved very much…They have no reason to keep me here!"

She brushed me aside again. "Nonsense! You have a very pretty voice. It is a little weak, I will admit, but its very sweet. And they will not get rid of the prettiest chorus girl, regardless of how well you can dance. Besides, this is only a rumor."

I was not convinced. Fear was now in my heart, and I could tell that I was growing more faint by the moment. Meg saw this and assumed I must be tired, for she brought me to bed and tucked me in, as if I was a child. She left my room and went to her little social gathering, leaving me very concerned about my future.

What was I to do, I wondered. I could not improve in such short amount of time, even if I tried. Dancing was something I was never naturally good at…And singing was something that I was only naturally good at, without any shape or trained skill to go with it. I sat up in bed, unable to lay down with these thoughts in my head any longer. I tried to think of solutions to this problem, but nothing that I thought of worked. Truthfully, I could have stayed there on my own, but I would have to do things that I was not prepared to do. If I had slept with the new managers (as many of the chorus members did in the end), I could have stayed on. If I had slept with any of the patrons, I could have stayed. There were many things that I could have done to stay, but I was so set in my ways of what was acceptable and what was not, I would have never thought of those things.

"What am I going to do?" I asked aloud.

That is when I heard it again. It whispered, yet it was still loud enough to echo around the room. "I can help you."

I jumped out of my bed, startled once more…In my fear, I had forgotten that I had heard a voice the previous day. Except I had eaten all day today…I should not be hearing this now. Meg said that my exhaustion and my lack of food was the reason why my mind was tricking me. I should not be hearing this now…Yet I still did…

"You are not real. My mind is playing tricks on me…You're just in my mind."

Strangely enough, it chuckled. This surprised me as well…The voice…chuckled? I tried to cover my ears, as if I could stop this voice from coming into my mind, yet I heard him regardless of where my hands were.

"I long to be in more then just your mind Christine. Perhaps one day, you will hold me in your heart as well…But for now, I am not a 'trick'. I am your Angel…The one that will help you stay in the Opera House, if you allow me to help you."

I stood very still. It could help me stay here? It was what I wanted, more then anything else in the world, but I could not let evil use this desire to get to me. But how I wanted to stay…I wondered how it would help me. I lowered my hands, ready to listen. It must have sensed my sudden interest, for it began speaking again.

"Yes, Christine…You will be the greatest singer in all of Paris. Not only will you be able to stay, but they will make you a Prima Donna…You could be famous, if you want it…"

I did want that. I had no idea I wanted to be famous, until that very moment. Perhaps it had always been a secret desire of mine, or perhaps I only wanted it now that it seemed like a possibility. I'll never know, but it seemed so tempting…

"I can't…I do not want any evil magic…" I sounded like such a child. I sounded like a child afraid of a ghost story, and perhaps the voice thought so too.

"Evil magic? Child, Angels do not use evil magic. I cannot make you a Prima Donna over night…God does not allow it. You must work hard for it. You must earn it. I will merely be a teacher. But you cannot tell anyone else of your Angel. You must never show any disbelief in me again."

I listened to him, and it did not seem too bad. He would be my teacher…There was no evil in this…He would guide me to this. I wish I could say that I had total faith in angels, even my own guardian angel, but I could not find it in myself at that moment to completely believe in him. It was all too good to be true…And Angels did not really exist in the real world. That is what I have been told…I wanted to believe in him so much though.

I used to believe in angels, with all my heart. When I was younger, I would make up names for all of the angels around me. My father told me that I had many guardian angels, so I created names, faces, and personalities in my mind for all of them. I had many imaginary friends as a child, and most of them had been angels. I tried to bring back my old love and faith in angels, but I could feel nothing at the moment.

He was offering to be my teacher…I could treat him as such right now. There would be nothing wrong with just a teacher…And Meg would hear nothing more about angels and voices, for she would sent me away to a mental home if I didn't watch myself.

Suddenly, a wave of clarity, a wave of realization came over me. I was suppose to do this. Not in the way that I did things in society, things that were expected of me. This was stronger…I was meant to do this. This was something that I had to do, something that I had to take on. No matter what happened, I was meant to accept this angel's help. I still felt no faith or connection for this angel, but I knew that I was meant to become it's student.

"I will do it."

It didn't answer me for awhile. He told me later that he had not expected me to accept so quickly, but I knew why I had agreed at the time. He would have never left me alone until I agreed to him (as he later admitted to me), but I am glad that I gave in so immediately.

"That is good, child. I am very pleased with your answer. Now rest…I know you are tired. You do not need to worry about your future here. I am with you, now and until the day I take you away from here…We will begin your training tomorrow, dear one."

I did climb into my bed, but I did not lie back immediately. "But…sir," I realized I had no idea how to address him, "I have to practice with the cast tomorrow."

"You will address me as 'Angel' from now on…And you will be free to practice with me tomorrow."

This confused me…How did it know that? I could not skip practice…

"But I cannot skip-"

"Do not question me. You have agreed to never loose faith in me, and if you ever do, I shall leave you forever. Rest now."

I laid back into my pillow immediately, too afraid to question him again. My curiosity was annoyed the rest of the night, and extremely unsatisfied, but after the voice began to sing to me…I could not resist sleep any longer.


	7. Clue

A Clue

I awoke early. I know this because the sun had not yet greeted my window…Still, the birds proclaimed its coming, so I knew that it was not going to be very long until everyone else would be rising as well. I laid still in my bed for several moments, unsure of what to do with myself…Should I rise, and ready myself for practice? Or should I ready myself for my Angel's teachings? I did not want to skip practice…But at the same time, dare I show doubt to my angel?

I sat up, confused with how seriously I believed in my angel. He spoke to me, and I knew I had heard his voice. I was not dreaming, nor had I imagined him…I did not think myself so vulnerable to the devil that he should try to tempt me…I tried to think of stories that involved the devil, stories that I had heard of in which the devil promises dreams and riches to the poor soul, yet this situation was far different then any of the stories from Sunday Mass. In all of the stories, the devil had offered a deal to the poor soul, offering all that he desired in exchange for his immortal soul. This strange being had not asked me to give away my soul…In fact, he asked for nothing other then my faithful devotion.

Besides, God would not allow evil to pretend to be one of His. If it had been a demon, God would not have allowed it to pretend to be one of His servants. One cannot be tricked into giving up one's soul…It must be done willingly. Father always said that evil cannot be a mistake, but only a choice, and I was certainly not choosing to be evil.

Perhaps…maybe…God was choosing to send my father's guardian to me. Perhaps it was possible for an angel to come rescue people. Meg had said that these things were not true…But she was not as religious as I was…And she did not need an angel, as I did.

When I compared myself to Meg, I realized that I did need this angel…I was desperately in need for an angel to save me. I was suddenly aware of how terribly unhappy I was in my life, how lonely and hopeless I had become. I had let myself die along with my father, for I had followed him wherever he had went for so many years…I did not want to be dead. I wanted to live, to be merry with life and joy, as I had been in my blissful childhood.

I wanted to enjoy my life. I wanted to feel the dear love I had felt for music, for people, for family, for trees and birds and flowers and fairy tales and angels…I wanted to believe in angels again…This was not selfish, as I realized, to accept this angel's help. This was accepting dear help from God, a dear guide's help to becoming part of God's light in the world.

I had a sudden burst of energy. I threw my covers to the side and leapt out of my bed, suddenly realizing how excited I was. People take for granted what its like to be excited. To be excited is to look forward to something coming up in their lives, something that is important to that person's life. When I was still a child, with my father, I was excited every moment of every day. I was looking forward to the next moment of every day…Sometimes I was too excited about the next day, I would not be able to sleep at all at night. Since my father died, and I was brought into the Opera house, I had not been excited about anything in my life. I had been anxious or worried about things, but never excited. Now, I felt as if I could not bear to wait another moment before my angel's lessons. This sudden feeling within my chest made me smile, then giggle, then laugh out loud at how much energy I had. I felt as if I could run, as if I could scream, as if I could dance…I flung my arms out and twirled, dancing in circles around my room, remembering how I would twirl with my father when I was younger.

I had a moment of pure bliss…Not a moment of happiness or relief, but of true bliss. This kind of bliss is not brought on by anything, nor is it given by a person or event. True and pure bliss is when a person is just simply happy in the moment. It is carefree and meaningless, yet it is the sweetest emotion that a person could ever feel.

I knew that everything was going to be alight. I knew that I would be saved, and I would sing, and I would dance once more. I will be myself again…My father would be gone, but I will finally be able to be happy without him.

I did not know at the time, but he was watching me. He told me, many years later, that he watched me twirl in my nightgown, watching my hair flow around me. My eyes sparkled in a way that he had never seen before, and my laughter seemed to drown out every single sound that he had ever heard in his entire life. He was deaf within his mind, deaf to all of the voices from the past that constantly haunted his life, and he could only hear my soft giggles. It was the loudest sound in the entire world to him, so loud that he knew that the small part of his heart, the part that hid behind all of the scars, hid from the past, and hid out of fear of ever being harmed anymore…That part of his heart took it's first glance at me from behind all of the walls it hid behind because of the sound.

The small piece of heart wondered, "What angel is this?" It begged him to go to this girl, to bring this angel to him, so that she may break down all the walls of his heart and take their place. It wanted the angel to become it's protector now…

It is amazing how we both thought we had found the same thing in one another.

I stopped twirling, but my smile lingered. It was not broad or wide…Just a simple smile.

After I washed, I dressed for my mood, as I normally did. I picked out my comfortable yellow dress, the one I normally wore on shopping outings. It was very casual, but I liked the little green and tan flowers that had been sewed in the bodice and skirts. I tied a little ribbon in my hair, holding my hair back from my face. I felt clean and comfortable after I was finished. I looked in the mirror, surprised at my appearance. I looked relaxed…There was something different about my face. I was sure that I was somehow different, yet I didn't see anything out of order. What was different about me?

I jumped when I heard very loud knocking on my door. I rushed to open it, and when I did, a very frantic Meg stumbled into my room.

"Its all gone!" She screamed at me. I blinked, confused at what she meant. She didn't seem very frightened…She was certainly wound up, and I could see that she was nervous about something, but her voice held only fascination and awe.

"What's gone?" I asked.

"The curtains! All of them! Every single curtain!"

I blinked again. "Someone stole your curtains?"

She rolled her eyes in frustration. "Not _my_ curtains, you nitwit, _the_ curtains! All of the stage curtains…Gone!"


	8. Curtains

That was impossible. The curtains were extremely heavy pieces of fabric. I saw them take it down once, and it took several hours and several men to get the whole entire thing down (the only reason they took it down was because they had to replace it with new ones after the last curtain caught on fire). But this couldn't have happened in just one night! There would have been noise…This was just impossible. It had to be a joke.

"Meg, really…They couldn't be. Are you sure?"

She got an impatient look on her face. "How could I make a mistake? Do you think that someone was just standing in front of the giant red curtains and blocked my view? How would I not see the largest red curtains in all of Paris!"

I grew a little impatient myself. Surprising even myself, I raised my voice to her. "I'm sorry, alright? It just seems…improbable. I just don't understand how curtains that large could just disappear!"

She was surprised with me as well. I had never talked back to her before. She shrugged it off though, not making an issue out of this. "Well, its true! Come see for yourself!"

She dragged me out of my room, pulling me along through the hallways and down the stairs. When we got to the stage, a large crowd of people had gathered, pointing around and whispering things to one another. I looked to where they were pointing and sure enough…Nothing!

The large red curtains, when pulled back, took a great deal of space backstage. Now that they were gone, it was just a giant gap from the front to the back, and everything could be seen and revealed. We were all shocked and confused, but non of us originally suspected any mischief.

"What do you think happened?" She asked, not really suspecting an answer from me.

"I don't know," I whispered back, "but how can we have a show if the curtain's missing? We can't perform without it…The show is only two months away! They can't just make a new curtain within two months…"

"Ladies and Gentleman!" A booming voice yelled. We saw our managers, running to the stage, looking very distraught. Two men, a fat man and a smaller man, followed them closely. The large man's face was so red that I thought he might be having a heat stroke, while the short man's face looked so white that he looked about to faint.

"Everyone, I had wished to make this announcement during a happier time, but I must tell you that the rumors are all true. We are happily retiring very soon, and these two gentlemen will soon be your new managers. May I introduce to you Monsieur Firmin Richard and Monsieur Armand Moncharmin." Both men bowed at the same time, giving no indication to show which man was which and that aggravated me.

"We are pleased to meet all of you, but due to the circumstances, we must put off introductions and congratulations. Rehearsal is canceled until tomorrow, good day!" Realizing we had been dismissed, people began to rush away immediately, yet I was frozen in place.

This was exactly what the angel said would happen. How did he know? Perhaps he knew the future, being an angel…Perhaps God did this. Did God take the curtain away, just so I would have a lesson with my angel? This could not be so…Could it?

Meg was pulling at my arm to come away. "No Meg…I want to hear what happened." I whispered. I pulled her behind some costume racks, since there were no curtains to hide behind. I could hear the men talking, but Meg was fussing lightly in my ear as well.

"Christine! We should not be eavesdropping, what if we were caught? We could get in so much trouble…Christine, lets go, please!"

I turned to her, suddenly wishing she was not with me at the moment. "Meg, please, just a moment!"

I listened to the men speak. The fat one was talking about how this or that was an outrage, the little one was asking about what they should be doing at the moment, the former managers were already leaving (with satisfied grins) and the poor stage manager was trying to make sense of all of this.

"But sirs, what will we do without a curtain?"

The two men turned their glares at the interruption. "We know where the bloody curtain is!" The fat one shouted.

The stage hand looked confused. "You do? Where, sir?"

The little one said regretfully, "Folded. In our office."

The man blinked. Not understanding, obviously. I was confused as well…The curtain was _folded?_ The thing was gigantic! How could it be folded?

The fat one spoke again. "We just come in to do work today, and when we open the bloody door, we see this giant red thing folded! It was sitting right in the middle of the bloody office! Our furniture was moved around so that this giant thing would fit on the floor in the middle of our office!"

The stage man looked like he was confused between laughter and anger, but luckily he showed more anger to the managers. "Who would have done that? Who COULD have done that?"

Both of the managers looked at him, as if the simple man was to blame for everything. "It's your damned Phantom, that's who!"

We both gasped, and I let myself be dragged away from the conversation. Meg hurried me to the kitchens. We stopped at a table and sat down, unable to speak. We just looked at each other, unable to believe that we had both heard what we had heard. We just sat there, knowing.


	9. Practice

Alright, I'm so sorry about the underline thing. I didn't do that on purpose (odviously) and I have no idea why it did that at all. I tried fooling with it and fixing it, but I couldn't figure it out, so I just redid the whole chapter.

Thanks for everyone's patience! I'll have the next chapter ready soon!

* * *

Practice

Meg and I sat there for several minutes. I could not think of a single thing to say about what we had heard, and I think she felt the same way. She looked quite confused and distraught, and her eyes kept darting every which way, as if searching for something. She seemed lost…As if she was unsure how to deal with this.

I felt strangely calm. I was not afraid, but instead, I was so terribly curious. How was it possible to get one giant curtain (I can't even begin to estimate how many yards long that curtain is) into a tiny office in only one night. Taking the curtain down was an impossible task to begin with, but rearranging the furniture in the manager's office to place it in the center? There was no possible way that one man could do all of this alone. It just could not be done…I could not understand how this could happen…

Whomever had done this was obviously trying to make a statement to the managers. I wonder what he wanted…It was well known that the managers got several letters from the mysterious Opera Ghost, much more then the last manager. It had been quiet for several years, so I am told, after the last manager finally agreed to grant all of the letter's requests. The other manager did not have too many problems, but these new managers seemed to be having trouble adjusting. We never knew what the phantom wanted that was so troublesome, but perhaps the new managers were just so furious that someone was making demands of them.

I had doubts about whether or not it was actually a Phantom that haunted the opera house. First of all, what kind of ghost cared about an Opera house? Ghosts were beings that could not move on until their souls finished something that needed to be done in order to go to paradise. Things such as the dancing being out of step, the chorus being a little flat, a certain musician being out of tune…What did those things have to do with an immortal soul? Personally, it sounded like some kind of scheme or joke…Yet the prankster knew what he was talking about. Every demand that was made had turned out to be for the best. The sales for the performances went up dramatically, and the critics raved about the quality of the show.

So is the thing haunting the opera house a ghost? I do not know. I do not care really, as long as I am safe, and the phantom does not bother me. In a way, I thought the creature, man or ghost, who put the curtain folded up in the office had a sense of humor. I almost giggled at the thought of the stuck up manager's faces when they walked in to see the stage curtain, folded up and waiting for them on the floor.

Meg seemed as if she was having trouble staying awake. I was confused by the expression on her face…

"Meg…" I whispered. "Are you alright?"

She looked up at me, and for a moment, I thought she was about to say something. But then, just as she opened her mouth, a crowd came into the kitchens, chatting loudly. We both looked up, and while I didn't move to greet them, Meg rushed to their sides. She seemed relieved, as if she had escaped from something unpleasant. She immediately began chatting away about things that had nothing to do with what had happened. In fact, she went out of her way to talk about things that didn't mean anything.

I grew a little mad. She was pretending as if none of this happened, as if we didn't hear what we had heard. I kept waiting for her to bring it up or to mention what we had heard, but she never did. I waited for several moments, before I grew…angry with her. I had never been angry with her before, but she made me angry by ignoring what had just happened. To be in shock was understandable, but to pretend it never happened was childish. I stood up and pulled her away for a moment.

"Meg! What about the phan-"

"Christine, we shouldn't talk about that! Excuse me!" She pulled away from me, too afraid to talk about what we heard. I was so surprised at how she dismissed me that it made me even more angry.

I stormed off…I actually stormed off!…And went straight to my room, too angry to think straight. If I had been thinking, I would have remembered that my angel wanted to give me lessons today, but I had been too busy thinking about the phantom to remember that. I went into my room, locking my door behind me, and walked to my mirror. I ran my brush through my hair furiously, angrily fighting with my unruly curls and my frizzy hair, feeling the need to battle something. After that was done, I sat still and breathed heavy, trying to calm myself down.

"You are late."

I jumped up, looking around my room. The voice had spoke to me…It sounded irritated. It shouldn't be irritated though…Although I was still a little frightened, I felt a little defensive about its accusation. He never told me what time I had to be here by a certain time, only that our lessons will begin today.

"But sir, something happened today! The Phantom of the-"

"I will not accept excuses! You will not delay your lessons, and you will not speak of silly superstitions!"

I tried to defend myself again, but he would have none of it. I was afraid to question him any longer, and truthfully, I was a little tired of fighting everyone today. Although I was a little scared about the phantom, I did not want to offend my Angel into leaving me. Deciding I should just accept his harsh judgment and move on, I bowed my head and said softly, "I am sorry, my Angel. I will be more careful about our lessons from now on."

This must have pleased him, even if he was quiet for several moments. "Do not address me as 'sir' again. You will call me your Angel from now on…Very well," the voice said, "we shall begin today, even though we are late."

I was worried….What would our lessons be like? I waited for his instructions, wondering what he might ask me to do.


	10. Lessons

Awkward.

That was the only way I could describe my first lesson with my new teacher. Truthfully, it was beyond description, but for the sake of simplicity, it was awkward.

To start, my mind was not in it as it should have been. I should have been focused more, or at least tried to appear that I was listening to him. I couldn't though, and he noticed. I am shocked that he was not more offended that my mind was wondering during our first lesson, and I wouldn't have blamed him if he gave up the idea of trying to help me.

(I asked him, years later, how he tolerated my obvious lack of attention. He replied that although he was very frustrated, he was pleased that my mind seemed to be contemplating something. He did not want to discourage me of thinking…Especially since it seemed that I was living my life as if I was a machine.)

Second, he conducted my lessons so much differently then anyone else I have ever known. He would tell me sing a single note a thousand different times, making me sing it over and over with different facial expressions, different postures…He even made me face different directions while singing a note. Only when I could master that note no matter what he made me do did he move on to the next note. That took a great deal of concentration on my part, much more then I was used to giving while singing. With my lack of attention that day, it made it even worse. After two hours of this, he finally announced that we were ready to stop our warm ups, and we were ready to begin the lesson.

I blinked. 'Begin? That wasn't it? That was just warm ups?' I thought to myself.

"We were warming up that whole time?" I asked him.

If it were possible for an Angel to be annoyed, that is what he certainly sounded like when he answered me.

"Of course we were just warming up! Do you think you would be singing scales on stage?"

I did not answer, but I lowered my head in realization that I had just been reprimanded. I did not speak again, and I expected him to continue now with our lesson. Instead, there was a heavy pause.

Slowly, he said, "Warming your voice up will not take this long after a few more lessons. Once you learn how to properly warm up, we will not spend more then twenty minutes warming up…Now, let us move on."

I was not sure, but he might have been trying to soften the way he had spoken to me a moment ago. He did not give me another moment to think about this though, for he quickly named a song for me to start singing. It was an easy little song, meant for beginners, but he chose it with such resolve and seriousness that I dared not question him.

After missing my entrance to the song he had chosen, he stopped me. I thought he was going to be cross with me, but instead he asked simply what I was so preoccupied with. I did not answer at first, instead choosing the more childish approach of giving him a simple shrug.

He waited a moment or two before saying, "Christine."

I knew he wasn't going to let this go, so I tried to explain what I was thinking about to him. It was about Meg…She had behaved so strangely, and I could not understand that. Meg and I had never argued before this, but it seemed as if we had tonight. I did not understand what I did wrong, or at least what I did to upset her. Was it because I made her eavesdrop with me?

I wanted to tell my angel, but I was afraid. What if he thought I had sinned? He would be angry with me…He must have already be a bit cross with me for being so inattentive during our lesson.

He must have understood my hesitation, for he calmly said, "I will not be cross with you, my dear. Talk to me."

After a moment of fidgeting, I began, "Well…I might have done something wrong to cause…a fight, I suppose, between Meg and I."

A pause. "What do you think you did, my dear?"

I looked down in shame. "Well…After the managers canceled the practice, and after they dismissed all of us…I made Meg stay behind with me. We hid behind some costumes and listened to them speak about…" My voice lowered, unsure how I should tell my angel about the ghost of the Opera house.

"About what, dear." His voice had a new edge to it, and I assumed he wanted me to quiet pausing while I was speaking to him.

"About the Phantom." I shuttered involuntarily. Perhaps I made it too obvious that I feared this strange ghost, but I was not aware that I was speaking to the very thing that caused me the deepest fear that I have ever known.

There was another pause, one that lasted a very long time. I then heard faintly, "And you are disturbed by what you heard?"

I nodded without thinking, for I should be disturbed. I should be disturbed, especially since I had heard this by doing something I shouldn't have been doing. "I am frightened by the Phantom. I am afraid he might hurt one of us…Everyone says he kills when the managers do not listen to him…But he wouldn't kill anyone that would hurt the Opera. He would take someone like me, easily missed-"

"You will not be harmed, Christine." He replied roughly. I was surprised at his forceful outburst, and it must have shown.

"…How do you know that?" I asked in a small voice. I had shown doubt before I could stop myself…He might have left me at that moment.

The Angel did not speak for several moments. "You fear the Phantom?" I nodded again.

"…If you are loyal to me…And you stay faithful to me…I shall always protect you from the Phantom. You will never be harmed by the Phantom while I am with you."

I took it exactly how he wanted me to take it. I understood that as long as I kept my angel near me, I would be safe. However, if I did something to make my angel leave me…I would be vulnerable to the Phantom. I had not realized how much I feared the Phantom before this moment, but I surely did. I nodded very quickly, saying, "I swear! I will always be true to you, my Angel. Anything you want, my devotion, my love, anything!"

My fear had produced these lovely words, and in my moment of near hysteria, I believed everything I said to him.

I did not count how many unspoken seconds there were before he spoke, but there were many of them. Finally he said, "Yes…I hope so, my little one…Is your mind clear now?"

That reminded me of Meg. "Well…Meg is still angry with me. She wouldn't speak to me about what we heard, and she acted cross towards me…But I do not understand why…"

He answered almost indifferently. "Meg is a shallow, self centered person, my Christine. She heard something that startled her, and she unjustly blamed you."

I blinked, surprised about how quickly this answer came. He answered me as if it had been obvious, but I did not understand. (He told me years later how he hated talking about other people with me. He cared nothing for any one outside our little world).

"But…" I was still confused, but I could not form a question. I was having more trouble accepting his answer then trying to form another question. "…Meg is a very caring person though. She has taken care of me for many years…"

He sighed, which confused me…How did angels sigh?…before saying, "Meg loves you Christine…But she is inexperienced with reality. She does not understand difficult situations, and she does not know how to deal with unpleasant things. Do not be upset over this, though. Tomorrow morning, she will greet you as if nothing had ever happened. You should wait until she apologizes to you," He said this as if he did not expect me to do so, "but if you wish to overlook this, you can pretend that this never happened."

I nodded, thinking about this. That sounds like something she might do…But how did he know?

I was about to ask more questions, but my Angel said, "Christine, it is getting late. You should sleep now…We will have another practice tomorrow after your rehearsal."

I nodded, not bothering to question my angel again about rehearsals. It seemed that my Angel would protect me from the Phantom, and rehearsals would resume as scheduled.


	11. Progress

Still can't figure out why this feels that it must be underlined, but at least I could it this time.

I love you guys!

3 Adela

* * *

And time went on.

I know it seems like I am leaving out details about the weeks that passed us, but truthfully the time escaped me. I could no longer keep the hours separated from the minutes. I knew only three periods of time now: The time spent in rehearsal, the time spent with my Angel, and the time sleeping.

I worked harder then I've ever worked in my life. No one in the cast noticed my obvious exhaustion. No one noticed the dark bags under my eyes, and no one asked about why I was often falling asleep in practice. My skin grew paler then what it had been, and I seemed to loose most of the color in my cheeks. I felt myself growing weaker. I even had to ask some of the stage hands for help with carrying some items that never gave me trouble before this. I began to realize that despite my efforts to please everyone, I was working my body too hard.

Meg and I were not fighting anymore, but she still kept her distance from me. She no longer acted overprotective or motherly towards me, and although she was never outright mean to me, I felt an absence of warmth between us. Meg would mention once or twice that I looked a bit "under the weather", but after sending me to my room to rest, she did not inquire about my health further. I worried that I messed up our relationship.

I voiced my guilt one night to my Angel. He advised me not to concern myself with the will of spoilt, selfish children. I never spoke to him about my relationship with Meg again.

Our lessons began immediately after I returned from rehearsal. He would make me sing the same exercise for hours before finally moving on to a song. The songs and exercises became more and more difficult, but I could tell I was improving. I could reach notes that I could never reach before, and I noticed a clear flexibility developing in my voice. My Angel assured me that I was improving dramatically, and my hard work is not in vain. He seemed sincerely pleased with my voice.

Several weeks of wearing myself out finally took its toll one day. I found that I could not rise out of bed one morning, feeling as if I might faint if I tried. I was more fearful about being late to rehearsal then I was about my health, so I struggled out of bed. Dressing was difficult, but finally I went down to join the rest of the cast. I was out of breath before we even began, and my head was spinning as if I was drunk. After only one number, only one silly warm up dance number, my body could take no more. I fainted.

I awoke with many people crowding around me, all trying to get a view of me. Some people were shouting, some where whispering among each other, but no one was speaking to me. I realized my head was resting in someone's lap, and my eyes looked up to see the face of Meg. She was making cooing sounds, as if speaking to a child.

"The poor dear! I knew she was feeling ill…Oh, I tried to tell her to stay and rest, but she didn't listen!" Meg's voice had a strange dramatic edge to it that I never noticed before. Why was she saying such things about me? She never warned me about my health, nor did she advise me to stay behind and rest. I was not angry with her, just confused. She was talking more to everyone else then she was to me.

"Should we get her some water?"

"She looks awful pale…Should we bring her something to eat?"

"Maybe we should call a doctor."

"Quiet!" Madame Giry yelled over everyone, causing the crowd to fall silent. The ballet director told everyone to leave, and despite everyone's curiosity, eventually only Meg, Madame Giry, and I remained. Meg's mother looked over me, taking in my appearance and now dreadfully tired I looked.

"Christine, are you alri-"

"Oh my!" A voice interrupted the Madame, and both of the other women turned to see who had yelled from the stage. I did not look, for I recognized the voice. I groaned, turning my face into Meg's lap. I did not want his attentions today, especially in my current state. Meg knew how I felt, and whatever had possessed her earlier to act so dishonestly left. She seemed to realize the seriousness of the situation. She put a protective arm around my shoulder, whispering assurances and pleading bravery from me.

There were several sounds of footsteps before they all stopped around me. It sounded as if several men were around me. One man cleared his throat, while another began to jingle his coins in his pocket, a famous nervous habit that made me realize who was around me. I began to panic inside, but I tried to stay calm…All of this stress was making me dizzy again.

"What happened to her?" Raoul demanded, dropping to his knee next to me. I felt him touch my arm, attempting to roll me over to him so he could see my face, but I resisted.

"She fainted, Monsieur." Meg said meekly.

"Fainted? Is she ill?" He asked again. I was surprised to hear actual concern in his voice, unlike all of the curious others that had crowded me before.

Meg did not answer because she did not know. Her mother said nothing either. Madame Giry was notorious for waiting to see what came out of a conversation, and I doubted she was making an exception out of today. The other men did not speak either, for they did not want to reveal how little they cared about my welfare. They personally did not care what made me faint, only that rehearsal progressed without anymore interference.

Raoul looked around, unsatisfied with the lack of answers. He looked down at me, whispering, "Christine? Can you hear us?"

I realized that if I did not respond, they would make a giant show of getting the doctor for me, perhaps even getting the impression that I am not fit to continue with the show. I did not want that to happen, so I moved to open my eyes and look up at all of them.

"I can hear…I don't know what happened. I just blacked out." I whispered with great effort. I honestly didn't care about what they thought about me right now. I just wanted to close my eyes and let go of consciousness.

Raoul nodded. "Then you are not ill…but what do you think caused you to faint?"

I did not realize I was exhausted. I did not know I was pushing my body too hard, so I did not answer his question. He began asking me all kinds of questions, like how often did I eat, how often did I sleep…Intrusive questions that I had to tiptoe around to avoid revealing my Angel. After a few more questions, I closed my eyes and did not speak again, feeling too weary to carry on with this interrogation.

The two managers cleared their throats. The fat one said, "Well, we are sure that she only needs rest. Get her to her room," He said to Meg, "and then rehearsals shall continue as usual. We will find a replacement for her."

My eyes flew open. Did he say I was being replaced? No! No, that was my role…I couldn't afford to give it up! My Angel would be so upset if I lost my role at the Opera house…Would he leave me? No, they couldn't do this to me…

"No!" I protested weakly, looking at all of them with fear in my large, wide eyes. "No, don't replace me! I can continue! I just need a moment…Please do not replace me!"

Raoul put a hand over mine. "Shh, Christine, do not worry. You just need to rest. You will keep your role, do not worry."

The fat one coughed in agitation. "Vicomte, please! The performance is only two weeks away! We cannot risk her not being able to perform. She can sit out this show, for her health…She will be in the cast for the production of _Faust_, our next show."

Raoul knew the man had a point, but he was not going to let this go. "Give her a few days to rest, and then let her resume her role in this production." He turned away from the managers, dismissing them with the last order. From the corner of my eye, I could see the fat man turn an unhealthy shade of red, but they both left without another word.

Raoul had saved me. If it wasn't for him, I would be out of the cast right now. I could not afford to miss a single performance, for I was already expendable.

"Thank you." I said softly to him. He smiled a large triumphant smile that made me almost giggle at his boyish attitude.

Raoul left me to Meg and Madame Giry, promising to visit me to check upon my health. I was brought to my room, and with their help, I was changed into a comfortable nightgown. Meg kept me awake long enough for Madame Giry to bring me some soup, and after I had eaten, they put me to bed like a child. It took only seconds until I passed out again, too weak to even notice that Madame Giry was staring intensely at my mirror.


	12. Back

I had not intended on falling asleep once I got into my room. I had intended on speaking to my Angel about what he thinks I should do about this situation, mostly because I was afraid of his reaction. Would he be angry at me for losing my place in the production? It would not be permanent, and I would still be part of the cast for opening night…But he always demanded dedication to my career. I would be taking time off now from my music…He would be so angry at me. It wasn't really my fault, but what if he thought I couldn't handle the stress? What if he found out that I was not made to be a Prima Donna?

I meant to speak to him, but I was asleep the second my door closed behind Meg. I was caught in a dead sleep, trapped within my mind for hours and hours, too weary to even construct a dream. I was too deep within my sleep to hear the beautiful singing that echoed throughout my room, nor could I feel the ice that was stroking my cheek. Any other night, the singing, the caresses, the fingers running through my hair…All of these things would have woken me up on a normal night, but tonight, it was as if I was drugged and I could not respond. It was pure exhaustion, but I could not pull myself out of my sleep for anything.

I woke up many hours later. It seemed around noon when I finally opened my eyes. I felt terrible, but that was expected. When a person doesn't sleep at all, and then suddenly sleeps twice what he or she is supposed to sleep at one time, the body is somewhat shocked with all of this recover time. It is like not drinking for days, and then drowning in the water finally given to you. I groaned when I sat up, feeling my head pounding away at the light pouring into my window. I went over to my window and shut my thick curtains, happy to be rid of the light.

I was still weak, but I could not sleep any longer. I would lay quietly in my bed, resting, but my mind would not go into sleep any longer. I snuggled into my bed, feeling my body agree with my plan to stay inactive the rest of the day.

My mind began to wander. I thought of Meg, and how she seemed to change depending on how I was acting around her. I could not understand how she felt that she should only act as a mother figure towards me, but whenever I began to act as someone bolder then what she was used to, she seemed to resent me for it. I thought of Raoul, and strange it is that he showed so much concern for me when he thought I was hurt. Why had he gone out of his way (and potentially seemed rude to the managers) to ensure that I would not be saddened by losing my position in the cast? I had made it clear that although I was flattered by his attention, I would not pursue a relationship with him. Still, he seemed to come after me regardless.

And then, of course, my thoughts lead to me my Angel. Remembering him, I sat up quickly, calling out, "Angel!"

It was silent for several moments. I thought he was not going to answer me. Before I grew distressed, however, I heard his soft, sweet voice saying my name. "Christine, Christine…"

I was so happy he was here. Although I still waited for his anger, I was extremely relieved.

"Oh Angel, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be so careless…Are you angry with me?"

There was an even longer pause. "….Angry? Child, what sin do you think you have committed?"

I thought about it for a moment. I tried to think about what went wrong and why I felt so guilty. I believe it is because I tried to do my best, and I ended up failing. I tried to give him everything he wanted, and in the end, I only put myself even further behind. In short, I had failed him.

"I wasn't strong enough for you…I couldn't do it, Angel. Either you were mistaken when you chose me to be blessed, or I have failed you, but either way, I am not strong enough to become what you want me to be…" I stopped talking. As much as I knew that I was not the right one for him, I did not want to tempt him further to leave me. I felt selfish, but I didn't want him to leave me.

He did not say anything for several moments, so I started to speak again. "Please…I know I am not good enough for you…But please, don't leave me! I won't be upset if you wish to train another…But I don't want you to leave me!"

His answer was immediate and sudden. "Why would you want me to stay with you Christine? Tell me, why would you want me to stay with you if not for music? Tell me this, Christine, why?"

I was taken back by his forceful tone, but I just blinked and told him the truth. "Because I love you, Angel! I was so lonesome before you came into my life…You are my greatest friend, and I love you."

Obviously, looking back, my feelings were of devotion, and of course, love, but romantic love was not what I meant. He was not a man in my mind yet, only a great protecting supernatural father figure. But, as my devotion to him is often greatly underestimated in retellings of my story, I would have done anything to keep him with me. No request was too small in my mind to prove that I wanted him with me always.

His voice was strange. I could have sworn that it was almost shaking, yet I blamed my stupid hearing on how strange his voice sounded instead of thinking of how odd it was that an Angel's voice would be shaking with emotion. In truth, I know now that he was really near tears by my profession, struggling to remain in control of himself. "My dearest Christine, I would never leave you…Never, darling, would I ever leave you. There is no other person on this planet that would surpass you…"

I did not reply to this, for I was not prepared for his sudden tenderness. I was used to my strict, demanding Angel, but his flattery was too much. I looked down to hide my blushing, awkward face from him.

"No, Christine…You have been working yourself too hard. I should have recognized how much stress you have been dealing with lately. It seems you are even more delicate then I had originally thought."

I grew a little angry at this. I was more annoyed then angry, but I'm not sure how I came off to him. "Everyone thinks I'm too delicate to do anything. I'm not that fragile…"

Truthfully, I sounded like a pouting child, but I was very annoyed that I was always being viewed as an incapable child. My Angel had always treated me as if I was strong, and I could handle everything I was given. I did not want him to treat me as a delicate child.

The shaking seemed to disappear from his voice, and I could have sworn that I heard approval in his voice. "I never said you are weak, little one. I just overestimated your capacity, that is all. Not even a real Prima Donna has to work all day and then all night…"

I nodded, giving in. He continued, "So, you are to stay in bed resting, my dear?"

I nodded again, but I could not hide my worried expression when I thought about missing practice. He saw it, of course, for he questioned me about why I looked so distraught.

"I am worried about my role in the cast. The managers tried to replace me when they saw me faint, but Raoul…I mean, the Victome Raoul de Changy…He made them promise that I would not be replaced, but I am still worried the managers would disregard his wishes."

His silence was strange and out of place. I sensed something was wrong, as if I had said something that was not welcomed. Perhaps he was upset with the managers? Or perhaps he was angry that I could have lost my position in the cast?

He finally said something, and it was the beginning of a very long fight between us.

"Why did you call him by his given name, Christine?"

I was confused. "What?"

"You used his given name in a familiar way…Are you familiar with this 'Raoul'?"

I was not really thinking about Raoul at all when I told him this, so I was surprised that this was the only thing he had gotten out of my statement. Didn't he hear my concern about the managers? I did not understand why he was so concerned about my relationship with Raoul…Was he worried about my virtue?

I was a little offended at his suspicion. Did he think I was the kind of woman that would sleep with someone just because of his title or wealth? Why would I ever give myself to Raoul? Or was he angry that I might be pursuing a distraction? I was overwhelmed already with rehearsal and his lessons! When would I ever have time to even think about a relationship with Raoul?

"Well…We were friends as children, and I suppose he remembers those days…I do not really think of him other then someone I used to know as a child…"

"You will not pursue your relationship with him. You must never give your heart to another while you love me, Christine. Everything you wish for, everything you desire is within your grasp, yet if you do not devote your heart and soul to me, your chance for your dreams would fade away." I nodded, giving in to what he wanted, for I had no intention of pursing it anyway. I was confused, and I guess my face showed my confusion, for he did not ask about it again.

"The managers will not replace you." He said in reply to my answer. He did not sound angry or happy. I did not want his indifference though…I wanted him to be happy with me, especially now that I would be depending on him to pull me through this.

"I am afraid they will try…But I trust you." I said quickly, hoping to please him. He did seem pleased, for when he spoke again, his tone had softened.

"Good. Now, try and rest Christine. Trust that when you wake, everything will be taken care of. I will protect you, Christine, from everything you fear. Sleep now…"

I laid back into my pillows and feel asleep again. I did not sleep as long this time, but several hours passed before Meg woke me by rushing into my rooms. "Christine, you will not believe what happened!"

I sat up in bed, seeing Meg walking in with a tray of food. As hungry as I was, I was worried about her tone. "What's wrong, Meg?"

"The Phantom! He sent another note! And after it was ignored…" She shuttered, and I paled to think about what she was going to say next. After swallowing a lump in my throat, I asked, "What? What did he do?"

"All of the doors are locked! We cannot get into any of the prop rooms, nor the dressing rooms, not even the costume rooms! And the backdrops are stuck! We cannot get them to budge! It is too close to opening night for the managers to be playing around with the Phantom! I mean, if I were them…"

She kept going on and on, not seeing how pale I had gone. She didn't see the fear in my eyes, nor did she notice how I was shaking beneath my sheets. She set up my food, as if there was no problem with the news she was giving me. The phantom was back…He had been quiet these last few weeks, and I had almost forgotten about how much I feared him.

As fearful I was, at least I had my Angel to protect me…But the Phantom was back…

I turned over to my side, not wanting to look at Meg any longer. She kept talking for several more moments, before she left the food tray by my bedside and went out the door. I did not eat, despite my hunger, but instead I lay there thinking about what Meg had said. My last thought before I went to sleep was 'The Phantom is back…'


	13. Resting

Help

I spent the next few days resting. I doubt I have ever slept more in my entire life, but I had worked myself into exhaustion. My body and mind were too weary to attempt anything other then reading and napping, not that I wanted to try anything else. I woke, and I ate what Meg or her mother brought me to eat. After they left, I rested and read the rest of the day. Sometimes, I would look out of my window into the streets of Paris and watch the people go about their daily lives. I watched them go about their day, unaware that someone was watching them…I had never just watched the city go by. At night, Meg or her mother would bring me my supper, and just before I fell asleep, I would listen to my Angel sing me to sleep. Nothing important happened during these days, nothing of special mention, at least until the fifth day.

I woke up that morning feeling much stronger then I had the last few days. I got out of my bed, deciding that my limbs were much too stiff to stay another day within this room. Meg came into the room with my breakfast with a surprised look on her face at the sight of me walking about. I was restless, yet I could tell I was still a little too weak to begin practicing again. I wanted to do something, anything, just to get out of this room. I voiced this to Meg, yet she shook her head with her disapproval immediately.

"You need to rest Christine. You must consider your health."

I was again annoyed with her. I had spent days within my room, only thinking about my health! Besides, she really had no right to tell me what to do, especially when she would only visit me to bring me food. I did not want her with me today, but I tried to be reasonable. As much as I did not want her with me, I was not in the mood to fight with her either.

"I've rested for almost a week. I must get out of this room before I go crazy. Besides, I am not going to go practice with the rest of the cast. I just want to go on a nice, simple walk. Perhaps to the park…It would be nice to get some fresh air."

Meg thought about it for a moment. "Well, I suppose fresh air might be good for you…" She paused, not wanting to admit that I was right. She did not wish to agree to something that she did not think of herself.

I felt that this was as far as I was going to get as far as her approval, so I went to my closet to get dressed for my day out. Although I was still a bit weak, I felt myself grow a bit excited over a full day out of the Opera house to do what I wished. I could not remember the last time I had just wondered through the city with no purpose, no meaning, just to enjoy Paris. I thought of all the things I could do today, and I grew more and more excited by the moment.

I was aware that Meg had started talking again, yet I was too busy with my thoughts to really pay attention to what she was saying. I got together my normal garments for the day, and out of my closet, I pulled out a worn, but clean day dress. It was simple and maroon, with darker material in the skirts. The neckline stopped just below my neck, going no lower then my collarbone. The dress flattered my tiny waist and modest chest, making me appear more graceful then I found myself to be. It was simple enough to spend the day in, yet with the right amount of makeup and jewelry, I could pass this off as an evening dress as well. The only thing I did not like about the dress was how pale it made me look next to the dark material, but some found pale skin flattering.

I went behind my screen to change, barely aware that Meg was still chatting away as if she really thought I was listening to every word she was saying. As I changed into my undergarments and my dress, I thought about what I might do today. Would I go to the park? Would I take a carriage ride around the city? I had a little money to spend, so perhaps I would go out to get something. Maybe I would go buy a book, or a nice hat, or a scarf.

"…and ever since the Phantom locked all the doors a week ago, the managers have been so uptight about everything."

I paused for a moment, remembering the last Phantom visit we had. I shivered, before pushing it out of my mind and pulling my dress over my undergarments. I came from behind my screen and turned to Meg. She continued to talk about the Phantom while she buttoned and tied my dress together, and while I tried not to listen, I couldn't help but hear about the being that haunted my dreams.

"The managers were stupid to order the stage hands to break the locks to the doors, of course. Of course people were going to steal from the theater! They shouldn't have been surprised. But what I can't understand is why the Phantom felt a need to get involved when the managers tried to replace _you._"

I turned around, shocked almost into speechlessness. "What? What are you talking about Meg?"

She blinked, and for a moment or two, she didn't say anything. Then she spoke in a hesitant and careful way. "I didn't tell you about that?"

I shook my head furiously, giving her a look that warned her not to remain quiet any longer.

"Well…a couple of days after you took to your bed, the managers started looking for a replacement for you-"

"But they promised they wouldn't do that!" I interrupted. "Raoul made them promise they wouldn't do that? What am I going to do now?" My eyes started to fill with tears.

"They didn't replace you, Christine! Just listen for a minute ok?"

I sniffled a little, but I held back my tears and nodded.

"The managers tried, but the Phantom sent them a note. It was one of the worst that he has ever sent them…He threatened to kill if they replaced you." I gave a short gasp, amazed the Phantom was going this far with it. To my knowledge, he had never threatened death before. He had killed before (or at least there were rumors that he had), yet the Phantom had never claimed any killings in any of his previous letters. This was different, and I was horrified that he found it necessary to threaten death over my place at the Opera house. But I was more scared over the fact that the Phantom _knew_ about me.

I had been afraid of the Phantom before, but it was different when I thought I was not important enough for the Phantom to take notice of me. When I was nothing to the Opera house, when I was just a tiny little nothing, I was safe because the Phantom could care less about me. But now that he was aware of me…I was a afraid now. It was as if the Phantom was looking upon me right at that very moment…

Something was not right. The Phantom _shouldn't_ care about me. The Phantom should not be making demands on my behalf. Something was wrong. I had the most intense feeling of knowing something, yet I couldn't connect it. I knew something was not right, but I could not figure it all out. It was as if I were looking at an almost completed puzzle, and it all looked familiar, yet I was missing just a few important pieces that prevented me from figuring out the picture.

"Christine, you look a bit faint…Perhaps you shouldn't go out today."

I shook my head, knowing that I had to leave more then ever now. I cleared my throat, trying to get control of myself. "I will be fine."

We gathered a few things for me, and after Meg was satisfied with my hair, we walked towards my door to leave. Meg wrapped a shawl around my shoulders while giving me instructions about my day. I ignored most of them, but she did have a good suggestion about my day. She suggested I go to confession, for it had been awhile since the last time I had spoken with a priest about my sins. It would give me a good excuses to ask the Priest about some things….

"I will go to confession then…I would like to speak to the priest about some things."

Meg nodded, not really thinking about why I would need to speak to a priest. Meg took it upon herself to walk me all the way to the door that lead out of the Opera house, until we said our goodbyes and left. I pulled my bonnet closer around my head, and I pulled my shawl tighter around my arms as I walked with the intent of going to confession.

It was strange though. As I walked, I felt shadows all around me. It was a cloudy day, so there shouldn't have been as many shadows around me as I walked, but I felt as if there were shadows all around me as I walked to Church.


	14. Learning

Just a quick note to people who read this.

Alright now. I know we've seen the Phantom do some crazy stuff in previous chapters. I know everyone thinks that I am just writing random things without thinking them through, but I seriously have each stunt that Erik pulls planned out. I know how he does everything. So, I'm proposing a challenge.

If you think you know how Erik did something that you see in this story, message me and give me your best guess!

I'm curious :)

3 Adela

P.S. Some people were asking about the dress she is wearing.

This is somewhat what it looks like. This is just an idea, not the exact dress

www.virtualmuseum.info/collections/themes/costumegallery/images/victorian.jpg

* * *

Learning

The day was as warm and sweet as it could have ever been, yet it was lost to me. I wish I could have appreciated the feeling of the warm sun on my skin, or lost myself to the smell of the baker's fresh bread. I wish I would have just taken a deep breath of the air filled with the scent of fresh flowers from the market, or tasted one of the sweets that were being sold all around me. I wish I would have let my mind be filled with all of the cheerful things around me, yet my mind was filled with thoughts of the Phantom.

How much darker a day it became when the Phantom was present! I kept reminding myself that my Angel would protect me, but it did not calm my fears completely. Why did the Phantom care so much about me?

I went to a small, familiar church, not as popular as the grand Cathedrals of Paris, yet bright and warm. The cozy, humble church was much more appealing to me, and I made frequent visits to this smaller house of God. I got to the church very quickly due to the fact I did not stop along the way. I came through the door, gasping at the cold rush of air that hit me as I came into holy place. It was darker then I ever remembered it being…There were only a few seldom candles lit in scattered places around the church. My previous visits had been nothing like this. There had always been light at every corner of the church, which was one of the reasons I felt so comfortable here. The shadows made the statues seem almost sinister…I was more nervous now because of this church, yet I tried to brush it off. Perhaps one of the alter servants had been sick this morning…Or maybe the priest was trying to save candles?

I had to come up with many excuses for the new darkness of the church before I felt brave enough to walk in. There seemed to be no one else in the entire church other then myself. There was a being all crouched over on the farthest edge of the last bench, but whomever it was had a thick blanket around them, covering their whole body. He or she seemed deep within prayer, so I would not bother to ask if they were waiting for confession.

I made my way to the confession box with my head properly bowed in prayer, my eyes not daring to lift themselves to the alter before I confessed. The box door was open, obviously showing the priest was waiting for the next sinner. I stopped before I entered, unable to overlook the fact that no one was waiting in line before me. In fact, there was no one in the church at all! I had never just walked into a confession box; I normally had to wait almost hours until the priest could hear my sins. But there was no one in front of me this time…I brushed it off, accepting that God had meant me to find the priest first.

I closed the box door and knelt before the window. Normally, I would open the box window, for I did not want to appear too ashamed to look the priest in the eye when I confessed my wrong doings. However, should the priest find me crazy…Or should he think I was lying, or being followed by a demon, or possessed, or a witch…My mind filled itself with worries, but I took comfort that even if the priest thought the worst of me, he would not know what my identity was.

I made the sign of the cross and whispered my formal Christian introduction into confession with great speed, hoping to hurry along so I could get to talking with him about more important things.

"Bless me father, for I have sinned, my last confession was two weeks and three days ago. I have come to ask you about a very important matter, nothing really to do with a sin that I have committed, although I am not sure I have even committed any-"

"Child! Slow down, my dear, you are going much too fast. I understand that you want to talk with me about something…Is that so?"

I looked up from my folded hands, staring at the closed window before me. That voice was not of the usual priest that heard my confessions. I did not recognize the voice, but it was a deep throated, scratching voice that sounded of an elderly man.

After a moment or two, I asked hesitantly, "Yes…I do wish to speak with you, but…I'm sorry, are you new to the church? I do not recognize you're voice…"

There was a deep chuckle that replied. It reminded me of a theater laugh, the kind that I heard actors give at a time when they had to laugh at a line given. Perhaps he is old and laughing was becoming a little hard on his voice? I brushed it off, not wanting to linger very long on the seemingly unimportance of the identity of my priest.

"Perhaps if you would go to confession more often, my dear…One should not go two weeks without a confession…You would have recognized me. I am a visiting priest here, if that will put your mind to rest. And I should remind you that humility is treasured by God, my child."

Having been reprimanded for my curiosity, I bowed my head once more. "Yes, Father, forgive me."

I found that I could not find my voice again after having offended the priest within the first moment or so of confession. I cleared my throat, but I found I had no idea how to start with my strange confession.

After a moment or two, I heard the father speak encouragingly. "You are forgiven, child. Now, you come for guidance, yes? Tell me what troubles you."

With his encouraging, I began to speak. My thoughts were muddled still, but I attempted to start again. "Well…Father, do you believe…Is it possible that a building be possessed? Or perhaps cursed is a better word to use…"

There was a pause. "No. Evil does not take over a single place on earth and keep it for it's own. Evil is all around us, in everything and everyone…That is why we must remain loyal to God. He, and His angels, protect us from evil."

I nodded, surprised by this answer from this priest. "Yes Father…But…" I tried to think of a way of speaking my thoughts without offending him again. "…You are knew here, so I am sure you have not heard about a certain superstition that many have about the Opera House. You see, some believe that it is-"

"-haunted by a Phantom?" I gasped as he finished my sentence. I was shocked, but he gave his deep chuckle again in reply. "I may be new to Paris my dear, but I have been doing confession only a week now, and I have heard all about this 'Phantom' from previous confessions. I do not think you need to concern yourself with such silly things. It is a propaganda tool, nothing else. "

I thought about these things for a moment. "Pardon me, Father, but you do not understand. I have seen the letters that he has sent. I have seen with my own eyes impossible things that cannot be done by any mortal…I have been named, by he who calls himself the Phantom, as one of those in his favor…" I stopped for a moment, collecting my words, breathing deeply as I realized that I was shaking. "I am sure you are right, and he is exaggerated greatly, but now…He has threatened death in one of his notes…Over me! I have never asked his help before, nor have I ever invoked evil spirits. But this being seems to be acting on my behalf…It frightens me."

His answer was not what I expected. "Who told you that the Phantom acted on your behalf?"

"A friend, sir."

"And did this friend read the note herself?"

He knew it was a girl who told me? "No…She said that she was told this-"

"So she might have misunderstood something."

He was right, but I was still not satisfied. "Yes, but the Phantom is real, sir! I know he is!"

"How do you know he is real?"

I was caught. I only knew because my Angel had told me that he was, but could I tell a priest this? I was told never to tell another soul about my heavenly guidance, but did that mean a member of the Holy Orders? If I could tell anyone, it surely must be one of the people who served God above all else.

"Father, is it a sin to tell a secret…One that I have given an absolute promise to God Himself, and His Angels, that I would never speak to another of…in confession?"

There was a very long pause. "Yes. But it is not a sin to ask questions."

I understood what he was implying. "Do you believe that it is possible that an Angel to speak to someone? Is it possible to be taught and spoken to by an Angel?"

"Yes. Angels are given to very special people. If a person should have such an Angel, he or she should be absolutely devoted and loyal to that angel. A person should never doubt his or her angel, for it will lead to disobeying."

I nodded, glad that I was being told that it was possible for angels to exist for people. I had followed my angel without hesitation, willing to do whatever he wanted in the hopes of pleasing him. But, as much as I had believed in him, there had always been a slight shred of doubt in the back of my mind, one sliver of mistrust that could have banished my angel from me forever. I had thought that perhaps I am crazy, and I am hearing a voice within my head. But the priest had just said that it was possible for angels to appear to people. I was not crazy.

I was filled with relief, thankful that I was indeed being watched over by an angel. It was real after all.

"And the Phantom…"

"Would be of no harm to one with an angel by her side."

I exhaled a deep breath of relief. My fears were still with me, but they were much smaller then before. I had total and complete acceptance in my angel now, with no reason to doubt in him any longer. The Phantom still terrified me, yet I now felt that I was not as vulnerable as I had imagined. I did believe there was a Phantom at the Opera house, despite the priest's insisting, but I felt he had no power over me with my angel there to guard me.

"Thank you, Father." I whispered.

We closed in prayer. He gave me a moderate penance and released me. I thanked him, not really paying attention as I left the confession box. I gathered my skirts and went on my way, curtsying at the alter and leaving quickly. I walked passed the same person in the back of the church, the one deep within prayer, and said a quick prayer for the one deep within prayer.


	15. Change

Sorry for the delay. Very busy in RL, but one of my New Year Resolutions was to continue this story!

* * *

I returned to the Opera House with a changed attitude. When my health returned, I went back to my position in the chorus, and I was thankful to find that I was able to pick up my role in the chorus easily. The managers gave me irritated glances for awhile, but after a few days, they became consumed in business. My role in the chorus was secure, and I was grateful to still have it.

Everyone watched me carefully, curious to see if my health would still support me as we neared the performance. I would find people that I had never spoken to before watching me, some even offering words of comfort. Girls that had shoved their noses up at be before all rushed around me, mothering and fawning over me, as if I was some new pet. The more experienced members of the cast even noticed me. The leading tenor, Pierre Lenôtre, rushed up to me with a daisy and, kissing my hand, told me that he wishes me well. The other girls all congratulated me over the tenor's attentions (they all fancied him). Even the Prima Donna, after seeing all the attention I was getting over my poor health, came to me and gave me a small pat on the head.

"¡Ah la rana pobre!" She came to me, pulling me to a better viewing area, and pinched my cheeks in front of everyone. "Poor tiny sick lamb! So happy you have returned to us little child." Her tone and her facial expressions sounded condescending, but everyone around us looked as if they had just stumbled upon a sweet moment between the compassionate Prima Donna and myself. I smiled, thanking her with words and a slight curtsy, before making my way to my room.

All this sudden attention was…strange. I had been invisible, and then suddenly I was all anyone could talk about. I could not walk without a group of people rushing up to me to ask about my health. I could not eat without a million eyes on me, and if I finished early, a thousand voices seemed to scream out that I was frail, and I should eat more. I could not request a visit to Mamma Valerius without meeting with everyone's approval of my behavior. When I requested a break to go to church and make confession, all I heard the rest of the day were whispered on how very faithful and virtuous I was.

If something new was going on, everyone suddenly wanted to know my opinion on the matter. They were not looking for my input, but they were curious about what I thought about whatever the issue was. When something exciting was announced, while celebrating, all eyes gravitated towards me. I had no idea how this sudden interest had developed, but I was too occupied in my devotion to my Angel to give it any serious consideration.

I seriously doubt there had ever been a more diligent and eager student then I. After I had returned from the confession, I jumped into our studies with a fierce determination. Nothing was more important to me then pleasing my Angel. Everything else was a waste of time as far as I was concerned. I wanted only what my Angel wished me to want, and I scorned anything that my Angel felt too distracting. Every thought and emotion revolved around my Angel's guidance. And I was happy.

I was accomplishing everything he told me I was capable of doing. I was proud of myself, yet I wanted more. With my Angel's guidance, obstacles that frightened and intimidated me before only seemed to hold me back. I honestly felt there was nothing I could not do. And he was pleased with me.

I could tell in the way he complimented me. I could tell in the way he sang to me, and the way he would tell me hours of stories just to make sure I was amused. He would tell me of his plans for me, and although they only sounded like beautiful dreams, I would be lost to the glory of what could be. We were happy together, as happy as a master and a student could be. But slowly, we both began to want more. We became dissatisfied with how things were. I dreamed of everything that he dreamed for me, yet I had secret dreams for myself. My secret dreams were separate from his plans. They were not filled with the fame and the glory that he promised me.

I dreamed that my Angel, having been so pleased with me, agreed to become mortal for me. He would be the most beautiful creature on earth, and he would agree to be with me until I died. He would bring Father and Mother from Heaven, and we would all be happy together. I would marry my Angel, and my parents would live with us, and we would be a family.

I never dared speak of my dreams to my Angel.

We practiced many songs, but we never practiced the songs for the production that we were currently doing. We did every single song from _Faust _that there was. It seemed a little odd, for there was no reason for me to study the part of Margarita. I did every single chorus role, even though I was a strict soprano II. My voice grew stronger and stronger, until one day, while singing the ending of Margarita's finale, a water glass in my room shattered under the power of my voice.

I was horrified at the mess, yet my Angel seemed ecstatic. We practiced more and more, longer and harder, yet my Angel always remembered how overworked I would let myself become. He had learned that I would never ask for a break, or ever reveal how tired I truly was. Despite how much more we were working together, if I so much as yawned, he would order me to bed.

The performance came and went with good reviews. The new managers were very happy with the turnout, so much so that whatever grudge they had in their minds for me before had vanished. In the success of the production, they joined the new attitude towards me with the rest of the cast. I was beginning to tire of this 'new pet' attitude, for I worried that it would anger Carlotta Giudicelli.

The Prima Donna did not tolerate people stealing her attention. But luckily, the managers (as well as everyone else) knew better then to deny the Prima Donna her desired attentions.

Everyone was celebrating the good turnout for the show. Normally, after a show like this, I would sneak back to my room and just sleep through the parties, but tonight, everyone noticed my presence. Everyone hugged me or patted me, telling me how wonderful I had done, that they were all proud of me…While I knew I should be grateful to them for their affections, I felt a little annoyed. Perhaps it was selfish of me, but I honestly was sick to death of all of this fake affection! None of these people had ever cared for me before.

I made excuses for myself, trying to get away, but I was stopped over and over again. One silly ballerina even made a scene about how humble I was!

I finally got back to the large dressing room that all of the chorus shared. After locating my dress among all of the other girl's, I went behind the screen that faced the mirror to change. As I unbuttoned the buttons of my costume, I heard a quiet little tune…It was my Angel, whispering that I had done well. I smiled, for out of everyone in this entire Opera House, I only cared about what my Angel thought.

I was trying to get out of my ridiculous costume when I heard the door open and shut.

"Christine!?" Meg's shrill voice called out to me. Her sudden high pitched excitement startled me, and I stumbled on my costume. I knocked the screen over, showing me in my corset, clutching the costume to cover my state of almost complete undress. I gasped, for my hair was undone, and catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I was shocked. I looked…scandalous!

I had never seen my body as anything other then my body, but suddenly, with the clothes hanging off my body and my hair wild around me, I saw myself as a _woman_. I was completely a virgin, but for the first time, I saw myself as a possibly sexual being…It horrified me just as much as it thrilled me. I looked over myself for just a moment, before rushing to cover myself from Meg.

She was laughing, calling me clumsy, and she helped me pick up the screen. She helped me undress, while chattering away. She was surprised to find me gone from the party so early, and she told me about everything that was currently going on. She told me about the party, as if I had not just been there myself, but she didn't tell me any of her thoughts about it. She just told me how things were…I was tempted to ask her what she thought about some of it, but I decided it was better to just let it go. As she was clasping my dress shut, she rushed to tell me "something that she forgot to tell me".

"Oh! Christine, it is so sweet! I can't believe how lucky you are!" I turned to her, asking her what she meant. "The Vicomte De Chagny has been asking for you all night! Christine, he is so handsome. Oh, if I wish he would show an interest in me!" She giggled a little bit, before continuing, "I would just _love_ to be his mistress!"

I turned around to face her, shocked at what she had said. "Meg! You can't be a mistress!"

Laughing, she said, "I guess I can't be his mistress because it seems he wants _you_ instead!"

I blushed furiously. I walked from behind the screen, wanting to get away from this conversation, yet the thought struck me. He wanted me? As a mistress? There was a difference between a mistress and a wife, even in definition. A wife implied love, duty, children…It was an honorable position. But a mistress implied just sex. Saying that you were to be a mistress was as close to admitting that you were a sexuality active being.

Meg followed me, suddenly seeming a little more serious then before. "He does like you Christine…and it would be wise to be his mistress you know. You couldn't ask for a better opportunity in life."

Shocked again, I turned to face her. "Meg, how can you say that? What about the Opera House? My dear Mamma Valerius? And I hope to be…a wife someday, so how can you even say that? I have plenty of opportunities!"

She gave me a condescending, patronizing smile, as if she were talking to a child. "Christine, dear, what can you hope for in the Opera House? To work yourself to death trying to be something you aren't? You are working so hard, for nothing. And I suppose you can marry, but what then? The most you can hope for in a husband is a poor clerk, and then you would have to be a housewife all of your life. Dear, our lives are not meant to be easy…But as a mistress…He would buy you anything you wanted! He would wait on you hand and foot, and your only job would be to please your handsome lover! Think about how easy your life would be…Dear, he is above you, so even if he does love you, there can never be any chance of marriage…Perhaps you should at least consider it…"

She was thinking for my best interest, even if she was completely wrong. My Angel would never let my life become as hard and tragic as she was making it sound. And I could never be content with a banker or a clerk. If there was not music in their hearts, I could never hope to be happy with them. Meg was trying to help, but she saw me as a weak little creature, one who was too weak for virtues. She thought I was better off a whore, with someone using me, because I had no other way to take care of myself.

I swallowed, and looking away from her, I said, "No. If I marry, I will marry for love. Or I will be alone all my life, with Mamma Valerius. I won't settle for being something…like that."

Meg seemed surprised. Blinking back what seemed to be tears, she did what she was famous for doing. She smiled and pretended it had never happened. "Oh Christine, you know I'm joking. He fancies you, but he seems too much of a gentlemen to worry about. Come on dear, you can't keep the poor man waiting."

I let it go, despite the fact I was still a little angry. I walked with her to go see Raoul, even if I didn't feel like dealing with him. We pushed through the crowd, although most of the cast had left by now to go into the city to celebrate. Meg led me to where Raoul would no doubt be waiting, but I was really not in the mood to do this. Meg was being overly aggressive towards the progression in the relationship between Raoul and I. Perhaps she thought she was finding someone to take care of me, but I was tired of it. I wanted to go back to my room and rest. I certainly did not wish to be with Raoul at the moment. He was becoming increasingly pushy with his will, and I was becoming tired of always rejecting him.

He spotted us. His face, which was handsome for all of my complaining, lit up at the sight of us. He came over, stopping before me and handing me a small bundle of flowers. The flowers were a type of wildflower that I used to pick as a child. They used to be my favorite flower as a girl…They were worthless, for they grew everywhere and no self respecting flower shop would dare sell such a common thing, yet it meant that Raoul had to go out and find them himself. Despite how irritated I was at Meg, I was a little flattered that he remembered my childhood flower.

"Oh Raoul…They're beautiful. It was very kind of you to do this." I smiled at him, hoping that I did not seem flirtatious and just thankful. I was already pushing it by accepting his flowers, but it was so kind of him to remember.

He smiled, seeming pleased that he had done something that made me smile.

Despite what all of the new stories say about Raoul, he had never been anything other then a kind gentlemen to me. He was intelligent, but he was also set in his ways. He was an honorable man, yet he was brave enough to eventually risk asking me for my hand in marriage. He was willing to die for me on several occasions, and when I asked him to, he was honorable to accept defeat. To the day I die (even if it annoys my love to no end), I will never say an unkind word about Raoul.

That being said, he was not for me. He was a member of the elite aristocrats, a group of men and women who were raised to believe that they were the best that mankind had to offer. Even if Raoul was compassionate and humble, even if after all said and done he was a good man, Raoul was unchanging. Why change when you were considered part of perfection?

We had many good childhood memories. Later stories would glorify our childhood, saying that our childhoods had shown that we were meant to be together. Stories would call us 'childhood sweethearts', but if were anything, we were brother and sister. We ran and jumped and climbed trees and played games…We were playmates. We were close playmates for years. His parents never thought anything of it, for they acting as nothing more then friends. One year, when I was 11, I sang for Raoul along with my father's violin. After that, he began looking at me differently. He would leave me presents, and since I was so young, I didn't understand what was happening.

His parents saw the change and asked us not to return, but perhaps Raoul still had the image of a little girl in his mind. Perhaps he still had the impression of the singing little playmate in his mind…But maybe he saw more now. Maybe he sees me as the woman in the mirror…Is that what had changed between us? He sees me as a woman…So Meg was right? He _wants _me? Is that all love is? Friends, but with _wanting_?

I blushed, and before Raoul could ask me if anything was wrong, I pushed away from both him and Meg to go back into my room. I walked in, and shut the door behind me, not wanting to believe that Raoul, my little playmate, wanted what Meg was convinced he wanted from me.

I decided it didn't matter. I belonged to my Angel, no matter what. I wouldn't see him anymore, I would return his gifts, and I would stop listening to Meg. To prove to myself that I wanted nothing to do with my childhood pal, I threw the flowers in my wastebasket.

As I caught my eyes in my mirror though…I couldn't help but admit that I was a bit flattered by his attentions…But it wasn't just Raoul. Everyone was changing towards me. Everyone seemed to notice me. It was as if I had fans, but for no reason! I had fainted…what else would give me fame?

What was happening in the Opera House?


	16. Holidays

The entire cast enjoyed the much needed break after the last performance. The Opera House was very quiet for a couple of days, which was blissfully welcomed on my part. I was grateful for a break from the sudden attention that the others were giving me.

I intended to stay behind. I informed my Angel that I had decided to stay through the resting holidays, to practice with him. This was an attempt on my part to prove my devotion, for I feared the Angel's wrath. I had not asked Raoul to give me flowers, but I knew my Angel's tolerance of any potential suitors. I did not want to risk making him angry with me.

But my Angel would have none of it. He ordered me home, chastising me for my willingness to ignore my duties to my family. I was to go home and reflect on my neglect of the only family I had left. This confused me, for I had always assumed that my Angel only cared that I devote myself to him, regardless of who was in my life. I did as I was commanded to do, but I wondered why my Angel, who seemed so determined to train before _Faust_, wished me to leave my studies and spend time with my family.

My love tells me now that he wanted time alone to think. He wanted to think about the interaction between Raoul and I, instead of lash out in blind jealousy. He did see my effort, yet he was obviously still furious. My love wanted to go into one of his…what he refers to as "episodes". It makes me extremely happy that I will never have to witness one of his "episodes" again.

I left the Opera House, spending the holidays with my dearest Mamma Valerius. We spent much needed time together. Although I was only her ward, I can't imagine that any true daughter was pampered and fretted over more then I while in the care of Mamma Valerius. She worried over how thin I had become (as embarrassing as it is for me to admit, I barely needed to tighten my corset during this time), and she worried about my sudden reluctance to speak about the happenings of the Opera House. I was afraid to tell her anything, for I did not know what was forbidden and what was not. My Angel forbid me to speak of him to others, but keeping secrets from my sweet Mamma Valerius was by far the hardest. I wanted to tell her everything! I wanted to tell her that my father really did send an Angel to me, just as he promised. I wanted to tell her that Raoul was interested in my attention, yet Meg actually thought I would be interested in becoming a mistress! I wanted to tell her about everyone's odd behavior at the Opera house, and constantly giving me attention. I couldn't even sing for her and show her my progress!

Mamma had me fitted for a few new garments. She had selected some very flattering gowns, more fancy then I needed at the Opera House. Someone must have tipped her off that Raoul was still giving me attention, for she was very persistent in getting me in gowns that would show my form off a little. At my constant request, she also bought me several wraps and shawls to go with the dress. She seemed proud of my modesty, but in truth, I worried more about my Angel's wrath then the low length of my neckline.

Other then our little disagreements about my clothes, I allowed her to pamper me a little. I enjoyed my time with her, for she was great company. She was the closest thing to family I had. In her company, there was intelligence and warmth, with adoration overshadowing any criticism she had for me. It was relaxing to be a child again.

Our time ended of course, all too soon. I brought everything with me to the Opera House, and at Mamma's request, disposed of my older gowns. As she was leaving, she called upon her favorite charity to come pick up whatever I decided to throw out. I was actually happy to have an opportunity to get rid of some of the clutter that was beginning to grow in my room, so I agreed to gather the things I did not wish to have and give it all away.

After Mamma left me to my comfortable room, I called on Meg to help me go through my things. I must, of course, give all my gowns away, but I also had ribbons and other little things that she could surely use. To wear a recognized gown from another was obviously an embarrassing thing for Meg, but no one would recognize a few ribbons or the broaches and clips that I had never worn before.

She was thrilled of course, and she took most of the things I did not want (some of them even trinkets from Raoul) and helped me carry my things to the backdoor. Even though we gave the trunk to the charity men discretely, I was soon hearing gossip about how I had given a large amount to charity out of the kindness of my heart. There was a strange fixation on the new label that I had been given, for there seemed to be many more that thought of be as the innocent maiden of the Opera House. Perhaps it was so rare to find a woman in the theater that could still wear virginal clothes honorably that I had become some sort of mascot for them all.

There was to be a dinner party, hosted by some of the patrons (Raoul was the chief host of the party) at one of the favorite bistros. I was invited by many people, but I could not imagine how I would go. I had gotten lucky the last time Raoul tried to pursue me, and I would not dare push my luck again with him.

Although…I was surprised by the small twinge of regret that I could not go to the party. I was actually sad that I could not put on one of my new gowns and go out with the others. The attention, although at first was annoying, I found almost tempting now. After being out of the spotlight for so long, I found myself craving it once again. There was actually concern in my heart that everyone had forgotten about Christine Daae. As much as I did not understand my sudden popularity, I was fearful of being invisible again. Being the center of attention is addicting.

I retreated to my room to avoid the temptation of primping and putting on my new gowns. I was pacing from restlessness when my Angel came to me.

"You have returned."

I smiled, happy that the experience with Raoul and the flowers had passed us. There were no words exchanged of time spent on holidays, and he did not say anything to hint that he had missed me. I wanted him to say so, or at least say that he was happy that I was back.

I tried to coax it out of him. "I had a wonderful time with dear Mamma. I missed our lessons though…You were not at the house with me when I called for you-"

He interrupted me, "That is because I do not appear at your wish. I am not a servant to you; I do not come when you call on me. I am here only when you come to me! When you fulfill your duties and obligations to me, I am here for you! But when you leave me to give your attention to others, and when you neglect your calling, I will not grace you just to give into a selfish child's whim!"

I was silent for a long time. The harshness in his voice hurt me, and I was confused at the sudden attack. I did not think he would still be angry with me over the brief encounter with Raoul. This was not fair! He sent me away, even reprimanding me for neglecting my duties to my family. For the first time, I was a little angry at my Angel's reaction, so I did not speak. I dared not talk back, but I did not apologize either. I waited for him to speak, and he said nothing more, so there was silence for a long time.

A knock on the door distracted me. I opened the door, still feeling my Angel watching me. Meg was there, all dressed up in her finest gown, with an annoyed look on her face. Her over gown was a deep green, but underneath, she had a plain white dress. She had one of my old ribbons in her hair, with a necklace that I had never worn before around her neck. She looked very pretty, especially with her blonde hair in ringlets. She was obviously going to the bistro tonight.

"Christine, I am here to force you to go tonight. I am sick of you always making excuses, so tonight I will force you out! Honestly, I think you are being a little selfish. Everyone wants you to go tonight!"

She rushed in quite dramatically, taking a little handkerchief to dab her eyes of non existent tears. She sat on my bed, looking pathetic and angry, and proceeded to sniffle and sob her complaints.

"Everyone will be there tonight! They are all asking for you, and I have to tell them that you do not wish to go. Do you know how hard it is for me to tell them all that my own friend does not wish to accompany me to the cast party? Ever since you became the center of attention, you don't care about your old friends anymore. I feel like I never get to see you because you are always doing other things! Its as if you have forgotten me."

There was not even a pinch of truth in what she was saying. She was acting like a child who was not getting her way, and it was hard to sympathize with her. But as absurd as I thought she was being, I was still more angry about my Angel being unfair.

There is a deadly side effect to popularity. Being unaccustomed to it, I was completely oblivious to the consequences of attention, even when I did not choose to pursue attention. At first, there is a little voice. This little voice can barely be heard, so it is barely acknowledged, yet it is there. Attention gives the voice power, and it becomes louder and louder, until you can't hear your own thoughts, and it is easy to confuse that voice for your own thoughts. It speaks desires that most cannot acknowledge. It tells you that you deserve this attention because you are special. It feeds your ego, saying that we should be admired. It tricks you into believing that you deserve the attention and a good time, instead of thinking about caution and humility. It makes you believe that you deserve people focusing on you, and you do not deserve harsh treatment from Angels. This voice speaks of both selfish and honorable things, and it is hard to tell the difference when they seem so similar. Is it selfish to want to go out and be the center of attention? Is it selfish to be angry that I was being blamed for things and receiving unfair treatment from a mentor? Did I deserve a break from my work, or do I deserve unfair criticism? Should I be angry that I cannot have fun at the party, or should I be angry that I am being yelled at for something that I truly did not think was my fault?

This little voice is clever. It tricks by making a person believe that they have true confidence, when in reality, they just do not think about the consequences.

"I will go tonight Meg."

It was all she needed to put her tear rag away and bounce all around me in excitement. Quickly, she picked a gown out of my closet, a deep blue gown with a neckline that intimidated me a bit. She selected a deep amber ribbon for my hair, and combined with the blue dress, I looked almost royal. I was surprised with my own beauty that night, for it was not just the dress that seemed different. The satisfaction in my eyes of disobeying the being that (I felt) wronged me was evident. I held myself a little taller knowing I was going to be welcomed, as if everyone was waiting just for me. Confidence was very attractive on me, and I felt as if nothing could stop me.

We arrived at the bistro very quickly. Everyone was surprised that I had arrived, and even more so at my appearance. I smiled, and I became more and more happy by each person who tried to talk with me. I laughed more in their company then ever before, and I even tricked a few into believing I was charming. More then ever, I was social with everyone in the room. I did not shun anyone, talking with anyone who wished to speak with me. I danced multiple times that night with gentlemen and cast members, showing that I was not a clumsy dancing partner. I felt elegant and alive, as if this party was just for me.

Raoul followed me about most of the party, and although I indulged him with a conversation or two, I was careful not to get to close. I did not agree to dance with him, but when I was tired, I allowed him to sit with me as I drank a cup of tea. I was the talk of the party, and everyone seemed to want to speak with me. Girls that I had problems with in the past even seemed friendly with me, and I was amazed that I was not friends with more people. It was very simple. I said things at the appropriate times, I acted correctly when I was supposed to, and everyone seemed to just eat out of my hand.

It could have been like this from the start, if I had only known how to be this way.

I declined several requests from gentlemen to accompany me home. Meg and I talked of the great success of the party, and she took credit because she had "forced" me to go in the first place. We got back home, and she helped me into a nightgown. We brushed back my hair and braided it, and we talked a little while longer about the party. I hoped my Angel was listening.

Slowly, as Meg and I talked, I began to realize the severity of what I had done. She told me how beautiful and charming I was, and I spoke of how kind everyone had been to me. Meg brought up Raoul, and my heart sank, but she did me more good then I thought she would.

"Raoul was completely smitten with you, Christine. I have no idea why you shunned him all night. The poor man was following you around like a little puppy dog…I wish he would follow me around like that. But he didn't even notice me there with you in the same room. Oh Christine, why must you be so cruel? If he were to only look at me the same way…"

I was happy that she had proved, unprovoked, that I had been faithful to my Angel, despite leaving like that. Perhaps my Angel would be pleased that I had paid no attention to Raoul…

"Raoul is a kind enough man, but he forgets himself. He offers too little for me to be content with, and it would be cruel to indulge him when I have no interest in following through."

"Christine, you can't honestly expect a man of his station to propose marriage. You are beautiful and kind hearted enough, but your birth is too inferior…"

I snapped back, "I am not inferior enough to consider being a _mistress._"

And before I had even realized what I had implied, her giant blue eyes were swelling in tears. She was not faking this time. I had hurt her for the first time in our relationship, truly wounded her. She was shocked and hurt, and I realized that it was the first careless remark I had made since I was a child. It was also the first time I had ever pointed that that although we were friends, my birth was still above hers.

"Oh, Meg forgive me. I did not mean it in that sense…"

She nodded, but was obviously still shaken by my hurtful words.

"I spoke carelessly, please forgive me. I only meant that…"

She interrupted me, "Why isn't that good enough for you? It would be a good life! It would be comfortable and warm, without the responsibilities that come from being a wife. Mistresses are often favored by the man anyway because most marriages are chosen by others…The man can choose his mistress though…"

I chose my words carefully. "It would be comfortable. But it isn't enough. I want more then that, and he is unwilling to give more. That's all there is to it."

She nodded and seemed to give in. We would not agree with this, but at least she did not seem angry with me. She left soon after that. I waited for my Angel's anger, but nothing came. I wished for his voice, yet I was happy of the absence of his anger.

I just went to bed, hoping that when his anger came, it would be quick, and his forgiveness to come shortly after.


	17. Reprimanding

Reprimanding

I was alone for hours.

I waited all morning, and into the afternoon, for my Angel's voice, but I was all alone. Finally, I could bare it no longer, and I left my room to find something to eat.

I was dressed modestly, in a pretty, yet simple tan and white day dress. It only had one ruffle in the skirt, with a rounded collar with a built in sash over the bodice. It was a little older fashion then women my age were wearing, but I was a little embarrassed by my dress the night before. I suppose I was trying to make up for my behavior.

It is not that I believed that I behaved improperly. My manners never faltered, and I am sure that it would be impossible to be judged as anything other then a lady. My dress was fashionable, and although it was a little more revealing then I was accustomed to, I was still by far much more modest when compared to the other women in the Bistro. I was sociable, even charming, but I was respectable above all else. So I suppose that the reason I felt like I had to blush or I had to wear a simple, long sleeved dress was that I had never been so open before.

After I ate (only a little, for I was growing increasingly anxious as the time passed), I made my way to the common rooms, hoping to pass the time with company until I was brave enough to try call on my Angel once more. I did not expect any of the other cast members to be up, for there were many people that had stayed out far longer then I at the Bistro, but I was completely shocked when I entered a completely crowded room. All eyes turned to me immediately, some even shouting out my name, and several rushed up to me, all talking at once. I couldn't make out any words, for there were so many frantic voices at once, and I was growing a little startled at the rush of attention. I looked around frantically, looking for help, for I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with so many people all around me, talking to me, shouting, giggling, gasping, closing in closer and closer, arms reaching out to me as if to grab me…

Just as my panic began to set in, and my head started to feel dizzy, a loud shout came from behind all of them, "Enough!"

There was a sudden hush over all of them, and the large crowd of people looked to see where the voice was coming from. I could not see at first, but as the man began to move towards me, the large crowd of people parted, like Moses commanding the Red Sea. I realized who had called out like so…Raoul was moving towards me in a very agitated way, even though his eyes began to soften when he neared me. He looked at me with such tenderness that I was almost confused, but I was too grateful to analyze this too much.

I suppose I looked as if I was about to cry, for Raoul took out his handkerchief and handed it to me. He gently and discreetly took my elbow and lead me to a chair, letting me sit down to calm myself. I looked about the crowd, and they all looked extremely curious and shocked at Raoul's fierce reaction to their behavior towards me. Raoul said nothing else, for he was a gentlemen, with poise and self-control dominating his character, yet his set, clenched jaw and his narrowed eyes showed he was clearly unhappy.

He stood next to me, practically standing guard against the crowd of people. I sat, slowly calming my nerves, clenching the handkerchief. I looked up at Raoul. He did not look down at me immediately, and while he looked away, I began to see him in a way that I had never seen him before. He was handsome, of course, but suddenly there was more then that. I saw a clean shaven man, with blonde hair in a fashionable shoulder length style, with dark blue eyes. All of these features were already familiar to me, but when did his eyes get a soft, smoothed look, as if someone had swiped a paintbrush over them? He seemed to catch my gaze out of the corner of his eye, for he turned to look at me, looking into my eyes once more. His narrowed, hard eyes slowly melted into blunt tenderness, and I found the transformation in his eyes very…interesting.

Seeing my open demeanor towards him, he took advantage of it, and immediately called for a chair. Once one was placed next to mine, he gave one more stern glance towards the crowd, giving a silent command to turn their curious little looks away from us, which was obeyed immediately. He turned towards me, and for all of his training of proper poise and politeness, his hand twitched towards mine a little, showing his strong desire to hold my hand. I was almost tempted to offer him my hand.

"Are you well, Christine?"

I smiled a little and said, "Yes, I am well, thank you."

He smiled again. We fell into a moment of awkwardness, for I was unsure of what to speak of. Raoul was apparently not used to having my full attention, so now he struggled for conversation.

"And…Madame Valérius, I trust she is well also?"

I smiled a little brighter. He was obviously struggling for conversation, going back to the formalities of family and health. It was common for polite conversation, but also to save one from leading into an awkward silence.

"She is recovering from a period of sickness, but she is much better, thank you." I was being very pleasant, when in truth, my dearest Mamma Valérius was growing alarmingly ill. At first, it was only recommended that she stay in bed, to rest, but it was becoming harder and harder for her to leave it now. She tried to conceal her weak health while I visited her as much as possible, but I did learn the truth eventually. I worried for her, but she assured me that she had a staff waiting on her at all times, and she would send for me immediately should she need me. Even in her lonely sickness, she still put me first. She was so good.

Raoul nodded, smiling, but becoming increasingly nervous. His normally perfect posture was beginning to crumble, and he seemed desperate to continue talking with me. I was a little surprised…Did I have such an affect on him?

I decided to be a little more forward then I normally would. Out of pity, I told myself. "What brings you here today?"

Instead of seeming happy that I was contributing to our conversation, he suddenly seemed serious. "You have not heard?"

I felt my panic begin to grow again. "Heard? About what?"

He seemed a little uncomfortable, but he continued on. "The managers, the Messieurs. Moncharmin and Richard, have called upon all of the Patrons, the cast members, and several others for an important meeting."

I was shocked, for I had only come to this room by chance. I had heard nothing of this. "Why such a large meeting? What is wrong?"

Seeing my alarm, he quickly began to assure me, "Nothing is wrong, nothing at all. You needn't worry about a thing, only some…issues to deal with."

Before I could press further, a large voice called out to the crowd. "Ladies and Gentlemen, if I could have your attention. The Messieurs Moncharmin and Richard have requested that everyone go into the Opera house itself. As I rose, anxiously, Raoul offered his arm to escort me. I took it immediately, glad to have someone to walk with me, for I was growing increasingly frightened. What if my position at the Opera house was in jeopardy again?

I should have practiced more caution. Gossip spread faster then I realized, and even though it was a very chaste and proper gesture, rumors of a love affair spread like fire. It was a positive thing, strangely enough, for attitudes about women sleeping with rich patrons were completely different then society would lead a person to believe.

We gathered into the large room, taking any available space quickly. The Patrons were together, apart from us, sitting in very plush seats while the rest of us stood. Raoul's brother, Count Philippe de Chagny, was sitting next to an empty chair, obviously meant for Raoul. The Count gave me an ugly frown, motioning for Raoul to leave my side immediately to sit among the other Patrons. I lowered my eyes, away from the Counts, and I was very intimidated, but Raoul made no movement to leave me. He couldn't have missed the obvious raised eyebrows and the disapproving scowls, but he stayed with me. He turned to me, now standing attentively next to me, and seemed as if he was about to speak, when Meg bounced over to us.

She made all of the proper introduction gestures and statements, but it was impossible to ignore the intense excitement that was pouring out of her. I had to reprimand myself for becoming a little embarrassed of her over enthusiasm, for I still felt guilty about hurting her feelings the other night. Raoul was so very kind, and I was just beginning to realize how much I underestimated how good he really was. When most would find it perfectly acceptable to shun Meg (and most would think it still gentlemen-like to be bluntly rude to her), Raoul was friendly and polite towards her. He seemed as if he was not happy about the interruption, but I did appreciate his effort.

"Oh my, I can't even imagine what this silly meeting could be about!" she fluttered, giggling for no reason other then to appear girlish. "I was having such a wonderful period of relaxation. Oh, I do hope they will hurry up with this meeting. Perhaps another night at the Bistro would be possible, if it is over quickly!"

Raoul became a little grave, and turned away politely to address me. "I feel that I must warn you, Christine-" Meg gasped loudly at Raoul's familiar use of my name. She did not need to do that, and I was a little irritated, but Raoul quickly corrected himself, for her sake I suppose. "Excuse me, _Mademoiselle Daaé_…I feel I must warn you, this meeting is going to be very grave and serious. If you wish, I can fetch you a chair to sit in, but I urge you to brace yourself."

I was about to inquire how he knew what the meeting was about, but the managers took hold of our attention just as I was about to ask a question. They began the meeting in a very formal way, thanking us, congratulating us on our success in the previous Opera. They wisely gave Carlotta the most praise and admiration. Yet, after praise was given, a dark shadow seemed to fall upon the manager's faces. They seemed strained, as if tempted to run away from whatever they were about to say to us. After several silent moments, the larger man began to speak.

"Now, we must speak to you all about something very important. It seems…There has been another message from the one that claims to be the "Phantom"." There was a gasp of shock, for this was the first time that the managers had ever announced publicly that a message had been sent. There was something terrible and shocking about it all, as if the haunting was suddenly official, despite the obvious disbelief from the managers. Fear clawed at my heart, causing every beat to sting within my chest. I clutched Meg's hand, and she and Raoul, lead me to a nearby chair to sit. We were in the back of the crowd, yet somehow everyone noticed that I had to sit at this news, and whispers of pity murmured through the crowd.

The large manager continued, "Not to alarm anyone, but…certain things were said in the message that we felt it important to address." They paused, glancing at us, themselves, and Carlotta. "As you know, the next production is _Faust. _The 'Phantom', as he calls himself, has made some demands about it, demands that I will tell you right now, will not be met. He has…falsely predicted that…our beloved Prima Donna will become ill should she attempt to perform as Marguerite."

A larger gasp went through the crowd, and all eyes went to Carlotta, who bolted up in her chair with rage. She looked as if she was going to throw a fit, yet how could she? Who did she have to blame? Her anger was there, but by now, the managers had learned how to deal with the diva.

"As we said, Madame Carlotta, we will not even acknowledge the horrible threat that has been predicted. We will be once again honored with your beautiful voice, and we will not even dream of our diva being absent…However, this note was also sent to our patrons…"

A deadly silence fell over all of us. This went beyond just the Opera house now, for our patrons were everything to us. They provided everything for us, and without them, we could not survive on the profits from the performance nights. Eventually, the money would run out from the stretch between performances, and the Opera house would be ruined. The patrons provided us with everything, and nearly everyone in the cast was willing to give them anything that was asked of them.

The large manager continued, "Now, after consulting with our beloved Patrons, it has been decided that we will not be frightened by these threats…However, the Patrons-"

The smaller manager interrupted, "-in all of their wisdom, have decided that it is vital and wise to…to…" A short glance at Carlotta made the little man too frightened to continue.

"…To train an understudy for our beloved Diva."

A large gasp went through the crowd. It was extremely well known that Carlotta would have nothing to do with understudies, and to even suggest it would cause her to throw a monstrous tantrum. She did not fail us.

"hOW can zis BEA?" She shouted, her Spanish accent dominating her French, showing how truly furious she was. We silently begged her to keep her temper in front of the Patrons, which she ignored completely.

"YOU canNOT do zis! AYE am ze only Diva en zis Opera house! I well NOT be replaced or have an "under-study"! Der ez no one en zis house dat can even begin to match mae! _¡Yo me ofendo que trataría de reemplazarme! ¡Soy una Diva perfecta, y usted no me merecen! ¡Debo salir en este momento! ¡Usted no sería nada sin mí!_" She was not finished, not at all, but Count de Chagny stood from his chair and firmly said, "That is quite enough, Madame." Still furious, she gritted her teeth and became quiet, daring not to argue or offend the great Count de Chagny, one of the most important Patrons of the Opera House.

We were deadly silent and still for several moments. The Count waited for a moment, but it was obvious that the managers dared not speak anymore (at the risk of angering either the Patrons or Carlotta). The Count then moved to the center of all of us, taking over our meeting to prevent any more outbursts.

"There will be an understudy for _Marguerite_, strictly as a precaution. Because there is a strong belief on my part that this is all a trick, we will not continue to have an understudy after this production is over. There will be auditions in two days for an understudy, in which the managers and the Patrons will all decide on the appropriate lady for the position. It is required that every Soprano, every Chorus girl, must audition." There was a lot of shocked gasps, for this was most unusual. I was shocked, and slowly, I realized that I would have to audition as well.

"Oh no…" I whispered. Meg patted my hand, and Raoul seemed about to say something, but his brother continued.

"As I believe this is all a hoax, I will warn all of you that this is not a joke. Should a person be found responsible for these offensive and vial letters, he will be punished. I will be the first to call upon the law and recommend the harshest sentence for the person or persons responsible for the letters and the acts of vandalism that have gone unhindered. Now, there will be no debate or questions about this matter. I recommend all of the women go practice and ready themselves for the auditions immediately. Good day to all of you."

He just walked off. He walked off, without the slightest idea of what he had done to me…

"What am I going to do?"


	18. Trust

Everyone began to leave. Some girls began to complain about having to audition, while others were pretending that they actually had a chance. I was terrified, of course. Through all of Meg and Raoul's assurances, I was terrified.

I knew, without a doubt, that if my Angel was still happy with me, he would help me through my audition. If I had not been so stubborn and proud, I would be able to rush back to my Angel to tell him the news, knowing that he would help me practice. He would give me confidence, and perhaps I could get through the audition without making a fool of myself. Why did I do such a thing? To leave him while he was reprimanding me for something that had to be my fault…I knew that he sent me away, but maybe he was testing me? Maybe it was all a trial, and I was too stupid to pass it.

'He has surely left me forever…and its my fault,' I thought sadly to myself.

Meg began to attempt to sooth me…loudly… "Oh you poor dear! You needn't worry! Oh, Christine, don't be so afraid!" Some people turned their heads towards our direction and began to whisper, although they seemed too afraid of Raoul still to come over to us. I tried to ignore their whispers and glances.

"She is afraid?" Raoul suddenly became alert and tense next to me. He asked Meg again, "Why is she afraid?"

Meg beamed, excitingly telling him everything she thought he would want to know. "She is terribly afraid of the Phantom, Monsieur! Any mention of him, and the poor dear becomes extremely frightened! Look, she is shaking now!"

I was not shaking, and never in my life have I been so furious at Meg. I was holding back my temper, forcing myself not to yell at her to shut her mouth and leave us alone.

Raoul straightened. He became tense, his face twisted into an intensely displeased look. He glanced around at the lingering observers, as if blaming them for my fear. He then got closer to me, boldly taking my hand to pat it in a soothing gesture.

"Christine, you have nothing to fear. I promise you, nothing will ever harm you here. You are safe from the criminal who calls himself 'the Phantom'." Raoul spat the name out, and I looked up, surprised and horrified, at the sudden anger in Raoul's voice.

"You don't believe in the Phantom?" I asked.

"Well, of course not." Raoul seemed caught off guard. "There are no such things as 'Phantoms'."

"But what about everything he has done? The letters? What about the locked doors, and the disappearing curtain, and all of the…disappearances?"

Raoul took on a sympathetic look that mimicked the face that one would show a frightened child.

"Oh, Christine, you mustn't believe all of the tales that are told around here. Many people over exaggerate and just blame the strange things on the man who pretends to be the 'Phantom'. I'm surprised we've even acknowledged the letters at all. If it were up to me, we would pay no mind to the letters, for we are only playing the man's game. The man who sends these letters enjoys making us panic, and it would be better if we would ignore his empty threats."

As offended as I was at being spoken to like a child, I was too shocked to say anything. It grew deadly quiet, fear spreading like plague among everyone. Everyone forgot the proper way to behave, and all of the people were staring, eyes wide and mouths open, at Raoul in horror. Raoul's attitude was dangerous, deadly even, but the Phantom was not the only threat. There were people who believed in the Phantom so fiercely that they would not tolerate open disbelievers. They would not tolerate it, even from one of our most important Patrons.

Before I could say anything, like a determined witch appearing to avenge her slighted name, Madame Giry came at once. "I would not say such things if I were you."

Raoul was taken back by the way Madame Giry had spoken to him, obviously not accustomed to 's nature. She was not one to bother with tact, and she rarely engaged in any kind of interaction other then to warn people about the dangers of defying the Phantom. She was stern and cold, and I rarely ever saw a softer, affectionate side of Madame Giry.

At the tone of her voice, and the bluntness of her words, Raoul's brother marched over to join our conversation. He did not bother to acknowledge the rest of us, even going as far as to individually snubbing Meg.

"And why is that, _Madame?_ Are you afraid the **Vicomte** will offend the prankster that pretends to be the Phantom?" He spit out his retort, mocking her title and reminding her of Raoul's. Meg and I both looked away, knowing he was reminding all of us to remember our places.

"The Phantom is real, Monsieur. It is wise to refrain from speaking that way…Many men have learned the harsh lesson-"

"I will not be contradicted! How dare you speak to me in this manner?" The count was furious, his face unforgivably merciless. "Do you think you are entitled to address me in this way? Mind yourself Madame, or I will have you thrown out, and you and your daughter can make a living on the streets, like any other piece of trash!"

Madame Giry luckily found a small piece of humility to use, and she shut her mouth and silenced herself. She bowed her head a little bit in defeat, while Meg began shaking in honest fear. I reached for her hand, grasping it firmly, for the first time offering _her _some comfort. Raoul, in his gentle, naive nature, seemed horrified at his brother's behavior. He leaned over and hissed in his brother's ear, which caused the Count to become aware of himself once more. Phillip glanced around, looking at all of the people staring at him, and he looked behind him to see the disapproving looks of the other Patrons.

To snub one underneath you was to be expected, but it was completely outrageous and unacceptable to loose one's temper and self-control. The other Patrons, believing themselves almost Godlike compared to the rest of us, looked upon him as if he had fallen from grace. The count immediately silenced himself, even though he was far from calm, and regained his rigid composure.

From clenched teeth, he said, "Good day, Madame."

He seemed about to leave, but he turned to me, his upper lip quivering as if he was trying not to growl.

"Raoul, we must leave. We should find more _agreeable _company."

Raoul seemed about to argue, angry again, but the Count turned to leave immediately. Raoul seemed really reluctant to leave, but he took my hand and kissed it, and giving a short bow, he left.

And alone, I could not bear it. The people that were far too eager to idolize me now glared at me. The Count had snubbed all of us, and I was being blamed for it. The entire Opera House was silent as the Count left, and the rest of the Patron's followed, and I began to hear whispers again. I was humiliated, but I was more upset at how suddenly everyone turned on me. I couldn't understand all of the glares and the accusing looks.

Whispers grew louder, especially after our Prima Donna began to join in. The same things that the people spoke with endearment about (my meekness, my seeming virtue) just moments ago, they now sneered about. I saw eyes rolling in my direction, and then a harsh giggle or two. How could they just turn on me, so quickly? It wasn't my fault!

There was no one more angry looking then the lead ballerina, the Prima ballerina, La Sorelli. It was well known that Raoul's own brother was taken with her, and she was treated very nicely by both him and the managers. She was encouraged to keep the Count happy, and they seemed to be very sweet with one another, but she looked as if I had changed all of that. She might have been worried that I had changed the Count's mind. He probably brought her presents, and perhaps she was hoping to become a mistress, just as Meg wanted. She was beautiful, but she obviously was alright with settling for anything the Count felt like giving her. Maybe she knew that he was going to eventually come back to her, but she might have wanted to see him today, and she blamed me for changing that.

I had to get away, quickly. I turned away from Meg and her cold mother, and I tried to be as quick as possible. People wouldn't let me by easily, and I heard more hurtful whispers as I passed. I couldn't believe how easily I was turned on. As wonderful as I found their approval and attentions to be, their hatred and disapproval was literally painful. While making it difficult for me to pass, no one tried to stop me. Meg, most likely aware of the sudden change in public opinion, did not try to follow me. I hurried through the Opera house alone, without even the hope that my Angel would be waiting to comfort me. I began to cry before I even made it back to my room.

I began to weep almost hysterically. I was frightened and alone, with the entire cast angry at me for reasons that I didn't understand. Raoul's brother had reminded me that, although Raoul treated me like a princess, I was nothing but a lucky orphan. I had always known that Raoul was considered "above" me, but I had never felt so little and insignificant in all my life. And what was worst, my Angel had abandoned me.

I might have had a chance to become something more then what I was, but I had lost my Angel and my opportunity. He would have comforted me, he would have blessed me with his goodness to make me sing through the auditions without a fault. With no one to care now, what was going to stop the managers from getting rid of me now? What did I have left?

I don't know how long I sobbed on the floor of the room before I heard his voice again.

"Christine…Christine…"

I took a deep breath, a moment to realize that my Angel was speaking to me. I didn't know what to say to him, whether to apologize or beg for forgiveness. I was terrified that he was going to tell me that he was leaving forever, and I deserved what happened to me. I continued to weep, silently, and waited while searching for any signs of him. I waited, and after several moments, he began to speak again.

"Christine, have you forgotten your Angel?"

I gasped, and through my sobs, I said, "No! Of course not, I would never!"

"Then why are you crying, my Dearest?" His voice was like a thick, warm liquid coating and filling the room, drowning everything in comfort. It was so beautiful, so affectionate, more soothing then any hug could ever be. It was kind and gentle, yet compelling, as if trying to convince me that I was not sad.

I sniffled, trying to swallow back all of my tears, in vain. I was confused by what my Angel was asking me. I continued to cry, despite trying not to, and for all of my humiliation and fear, I could not come up with an answer. He did not wait long for me.

"Why do you weep, little songbird, when you know that I am here for you? Why do you fear when you know that I am here to protect you? Why do you act as if you are alone in this world when I will never let you be alone? Have you so little faith in your Angel?"

His words were so beautiful, despite everything that has happened, that I began to cry harder. I sobbed, breathing erratically, wiping my tears with my shirts pathetically. I was so touched by his words, especially when I knew I did not deserve him. I had been so selfish, and my Angel loved me anyway.

"Christine, stop crying, please." There was sudden agitation in his voice. I would find out soon enough that my love can do many things, but he never could stand to see me cry.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I don't mean to…I just don't deserve you. I thought that you were going to leave me. I've behaved so badly, and I don't understand."

"What do you think you've done wrong? What are you confused about, child?"

"I know that you were trying to test me when you sent me away. I don't understand how, but I failed when I left. And when you tried to teach me what I did wrong, I left to go out with people that never really cared about me. They hate me now, so quickly, when only this morning they were all saying nice things about me. And I left you to go out with all of them. And you are here, despite everything that I have done."

There was a long silence.

Erik was just beginning to understand that he had caused all of this with one of his "episodes". He was figuring out what had really happened, while I cried and thought about what I had done. His episodes were dangerous, and I hadn't learned about them yet.

It is hard to describe what I refer to as one of my love's "episodes". They are unlike anything that I have ever seen or heard of, and they were quite frightening before I grew used to them. I am sure that someone dedicated to the study of the human mind or behavior would be able to identify the correct terminology for my love's condition, yet I can only guess and make up my own description for it.

My love seems to suffer from two strange mood swings. I refer to the brief, random, and unpredictable state as his "episodes". During an episode, my love becomes focused on one task and becomes unable to think about anything else. He becomes obsessed to the point where time and hunger and sleep mean nothing, and it is difficult to pull him out of it. Normally, I have noticed, an "episode" is brought on by stress or the desire to be distracted from something unpleasant. I suppose it is like taking a step back from a situation to collect one's thoughts, except my love retreats from the world entirely. He completes things that would take an average man years to do, for he does not eat or sleep or even think about anything else other then the task before him. He has learned languages in only days, completed large paintings with extraordinary detail, built massive structures capable of withstanding extreme stress, and completed some of the most glorious Operas that mankind has ever known.

But his episodes, though seemingly productive, comes at a great price. His personal effects would become evident later, but I had to suffer through the consequences more then once. He would remember almost nothing of the days leading up to his episode. Although he was vaguely aware of the events before an episode, it was similar to a normal person trying to think about a conversation that had taken place years ago. Time is almost subjective with the episodes.

This is what happened after I returned home from the holidays. I know now that after the episode ended (and another portrait of me completed), my love returned to my room to find me gone. Although he was the person that had given me the order in the first place, he did not remember it. When he had given me the recommendation to leave the Opera House, his mind was already thinking about the portrait that he was going to paint, barely aware of what he was telling me to do. He found me out of course, watching me celebrate with my only family in the world, probably furious and confused on why I had just left him. I had no contact with Raoul during this time, which was probably the only reason that Erik did not…attempt anything against Raoul.

And when I came back, cheerful and happy, he must have felt betrayed. He probably felt as if I did not care for him anymore. He admits now that he thought he was losing me, as if I was forgetting and outgrowing my Angel. If he could have read my mind, he would know that he was the only thing on my mind while I was away from him.

This brings me to his other strange state of mind. I refer to it as a "fit", which is putting it gently. In truth, it is a violent and irrational state of mind that causes him to blindly lash out at any poor soul who happens to cross his path. It is the most intense and the most frightening thing I have ever seen in my lifetime. After its terrible ferocity, it becomes the most heart breaking and sorrowful thing in the entire world.

It is unpredictable, yet in a predictable way. Something terrible would happen, something caused my Erik himself. He would destroy anything during this blind state of mind, whether one of his precious works of art, which are as dear to him as children are to their mothers, or even innocent people that never learn why their lives are taken from them in such a brutal way. After Erik has finished destroying anything and everything around him, he then spends hours weeping and mourning over the lost things. He mourns and tortures himself over his deeds. Although people have lost their lives to Erik's blind rage, for every tear that a loved one cried for their lost kin, Erik has cried a thousand more.

He had caused me to become angry with him when he unjustly accused me of leaving my duties and my Angel. This was after an episode, when he could not remember that I was only following orders. But after I had left with Meg to go off with my supposed friends, he went into one of his fits.

He felt betrayed when I had left, not realizing I was doing so under his command. And after I had left again, it only reinforced his panic and anger that perhaps he was losing me.

I still know nothing of the consequences of this particular fit. Although my love tells me over and over again that he had destroyed only material things, and he had retreated down into the depths of the Opera House for his anger, I do not believe him. Once I had seen one of his "fits" personally, I knew that he would never tell me the truth about what really happened that night. He is too unpredictable and irrational when he is in one of his fits to retreat into the underground. He would have lashed out at any poor soul that happened to be in the Opera House that night. But he will never tell me the truth, probably to spare me any guilt I might have for being associated with whatever horrible thing had happened that night. I still feel guilty.

"Christine, you do not need to cry anymore."

I tried to stop, but again I could not control myself. I was so miserable.

"You have nothing to be upset about. I be by your side, and with my help, you will astound everyone in your auditions. The second they hear the perfection of your voice, the pure beauty will make them speechless. All of them will love and adore you once they hear the brilliance of your voice…But it will not matter, for you will remember."

I finally stopped crying. I was completely flattered by my Angel's beautiful words and his promise. The picture that he painted for me was so wonderful, better then a dream, and I could barely begin to believe him. Did he really think I was capable of all of this? I was also confused about what he meant…What was I going to remember?

"Remember what, Angel?"

"Remember what they are really like!" My Angel's voice took on a satisfied tone, as if finding pleasure in telling me the faults of the rest of the Opera house. "When they love and adore you again, they will all want to be close to you. But you have learned today that they do not really care for you. Even your little friend didn't follow you back here. And you will remember that when they all say sweet things to you, they would turn on you again in a heartbeat. Everyone will do this to you, even that _boy._ But your Angel will always be here for you, and I am the only one you can trust to love and care for you. Now, dry your tears little one. You must not feel bad for what you've done, you are sweet hearted, naïve girl. You will learn, but do not cry anymore. I forgive you everything, and we will begin to practice for your audition tomorrow morning. I think you should try to rest for now."

I nodded and walked over to my bed.

"I can only trust you. Everyone else will betray and hurt me, except for you."

And I believed every word.


	19. Auditions

We practiced for my auditions. My Angel never pushed me, he never spoke too harshly, and he was very careful in his criticisms. I knew that he was trying to be tender with me, and I was grateful for it. I had so many emotions going through me, even when I tried not to think about them, that I could barely see straight.

I tried not to think about how I was unwelcome at meals. I tried not to think about I had to eat alone, in my room, to avoid ridicule. I tried not to think about how I had betrayed my Angel, failed his test that would have probably been simple to a brighter girl, and he took me back with open arms anyway. I tried not to think about how I was suppose to amaze everyone at the auditions. I tried not to think about how I had no idea if it was better to become the understudy or stay despised. I tried, I tried, I tried…

Naturally, my Angel knew my focus was elsewhere, and he had to call me back to our lessons repeatedly. He was very patient at first, but as the time approached, he grew more and more anxious. He never lost his temper, but the demand in his voice grew. As his excitement grew, my panic grew, until I was almost shaking in dread.

The night before the auditions was terrible. My Angel was there to sing me to sleep and to sing me back to sleep the many times I woke up. I only slept a few hours at a time, my panic growing even in my dreams. At dawn, I could not sleep any longer, so I did bathed and ate breakfast early, before anyone else woke up. I could not bear to face anyone right now, not when so much depended on this day.

I was so scared that I could not decide on a dress to wear, convinced I would look foolish in all of them. I had been through auditions before, as many of us had, and a person was expected to dress grand. I would be expected to look my loveliest, to dress in my finest, even if I were only going to be on stage for a few moments. I had a few party gowns, an old ball gown or two, but I had no idea which one was suitable for this audition. My Angel was expecting so much from me, and I could not afford to look silly, before I could even begin to sing. I was not counting on Meg to help me either, so I was left alone to choose and dress, and I seriously doubted by ability to tie my own corset. My panic grew with every indecisive moment, but before lost control of myself, my Angel spoke.

"The rose dress in the back of your closet would be best, my dear."

I was startled, only because of my nerves. Normally, I wouldn't be so surprised by an unannounced interruption, but this day was different. This was the day that would make my Angel see that I was unfit for his attention, I was sure of it. Angels never make mistakes in choosing their pupils, I'm sure, but I was going to fail today, and it would be my fault if he left. I only hoped that my Angel would stay with me in spirit as he trained a new girl who deserved him.

I wasn't sure which dress he was referring to, for I had no dresses with any rose theme to it, but in the very back of my closet was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. It was very small, with much less material and bulk than the current fashion trends in Paris, but there was something elegant about it's simplicity. There were deep pink silk sleeves that fell off the shoulder, sweet to look at, yet subtly sensual. The bodice was made of a white material with happy, soft flowers. The form of the dress was slender and thinning, with no ribbons or lace to interrupt the flowing from bodice, to waist, to hips. The dress was then swept up in a large, flat bow in the back holding the printed material back in a simple way, with very few ruffles, to reveal the same pink silk from the sleeves. It was elegant and regal in its simplicity, only being graced with a soft rose broach in the center of the bodice, to prevent anyone from accusing the dress of having such a dangerously low neckline. I could not stop looking at it, and I could not believe I was lucky enough to wear such a vision…Except I had never seen this dress before in my life.

"This dress…It is so beautiful…But where…?"

"I am your Angel, Christine. I help you when you are in need, and I can reward goodness whenever I please to. You will find matching shoes in a box under your bed, and a few more things in your vanity drawer."

I was speechless and about to cry, but I attempted to voice my feelings. anyway

"Angel, I am-"

"I know, my dear. Please do not speak anymore, and I do demand that you refrain from crying, as it will ruin your voice before your auditions."

I nodded and swallowed back my tears, turning my attention to my new dress. I had no idea how I was to put it on, but the fact that I was to wear such a dress brought my spirits up enough to put the dress back in the closet for a few moments, to ready my shoes and other things. I didn't want to bother with searching for them once I was in my gown.

The shoes were of the same deep pink material of the gown, with matching rose broaches on the center of the shoes. I tried them on, finding that they fit every curve of my foot perfectly. I stood in them to find, despite the elegant shape and heal of the shoe, that they were incredibly comfortable. Standing for a period of time and moving around in these shoes would be nearly effortless on my part.

The drawer was filled with things. It was literally filled with trinkets! There were so many things in the drawer that some things fell out as I opened it. There was a rose box on the top, a wooden box painted the pink of my dresses, with my name carved in it. I held the box up, touching the beautiful craftsmanship and details of it. I had no idea why anyone would even bother putting so much detail in such a little box…And then I realized how silly that idea was. No one had spent any time on this box, for my Angel had used his magic!

I decided not to go through the drawer and overexcite myself. I placed the box on the vanity and closed the drawer, making a note to go through it when I returned. I went over to the dress, determined to find a way to dress myself, without any help. But before I could begin to fuss over the dress, I discovered that the dress wasn't only beautiful, but it was clever. Inside was a woven in corset, which made sense now that I looked at the ever smooth bodice. Yet even more amazing then that were interlocking hooks in the back that made even lacing the corset pointless. It would be much easier with another person to help, yet it was manageable by myself. There were many, many hooks, but I managed to get them all fastened. To my amazement, with a clever sash trick in the back, no one would ever guess that only a few hooks stood in the way of undressing me.

My first glance in the mirror made me realize that although I had all my dresses made for me, no dress had ever been made for me like this one. This dress fit over my skin as if it was meant to fit there, like an old puzzle piece that had finally found its place. I had never been so connected to a piece of clothing before.

I admired myself for a few more moments, before I slipped my shoes on and sat at my vanity. I opened the lovely little rose box to find the most beautiful pieces of jewelry I had ever seen. There was a pink pearl necklace that fell just outside of my neck, acting like a choker, yet daring not to get too close to be a burden to the throat of a singer. There were matching drop pearl earrings, a pearl bracelet, and a lovely pearl ring. I thought the necklace and the earrings were enough, and the other things were a bit too much, but I decided it was best not to question such generosity. I fastened my long hair into a fashionable bun with the pearl comb I found in the box.

With a little touch of power and color, I saw myself as I had never seen myself before. Perhaps I had never had anything fit me so well, in body or personality, but I suddenly saw myself, as I should look every moment. This should not have been the first time I had seen the true beauty in myself, but it wasn't the pearls or the shoes or even the magnificent dress. It was me, shinning through fear and doubt, and glowing in the realization that I was going to do exactly what my Angel had said I was to do.

"It is time, my darling. You look…stunning…and in just a few, short minutes, you will have them all at your feet, worshipping you as they should."

I blushed deeply, unprepared for his flattery. I nodded, careful not to let the little fear was creeping back into my heart show.

"Thank you, Angel. I want to make you proud today…" I stopped, breathing in, daring not to say another word. I had control of my nerves, for now, but I didn't want to push my limit.

We were silent for a moment, for there was nothing else to say to one another. I felt no physical presence in the room with me, but somehow, I still felt him near. I felt connected to him, knowing he was watching over me during this stressful event. I thought about everything he had done for me, and how much I desperately loved him, and I could never live without him again. In those few moments of silence, I was positive that I would never love anyone as much as I loved my Angel.

I took a deep breath and left the room, knowing my Angel would be with me. I made my way through the Opera House, trying to stay out of the public rooms, going the long way to avoid people. In a few minutes, faster then I intended, I was about to enter the room where all of the others auditioning were. I could hear laughing and shouting, as well as scales for a few girls who didn't bother to warm up before coming to the auditions.

I found myself frozen…How would I walk into a room where all of the people despise me? I didn't want to go in…

"_Do not fear, my darling. I am with you, always…" _A small whisper told me. It was so slight, and so soft, that I would have missed it had it not been said directly into my ear. I actually tried to turn my head to look, but of course, I saw nothing. I nodded, took another deep breath, and opened the door.

Silence welcomed me. It was sudden, as if rehearsed, and no one moved. They all looked at me, seeming to still be angry with me, but there was something else to their looks. They seemed surprised and confused. Although they were all dressed in their finest, in ball gowns and jewels and powder, in gold and silk and velvet, I knew that I put them all to shame. In all of their ruffles, frills, ribbons, and broaches, they seemed foolish and silly compared to my sophisticated elegance.

It is an odd thing to realize that you are the most beautiful thing in the room. Some would get joy and pride from that realization, but I did not gain confidence from it. I felt different and strange, like some kind of a freak in the middle of the room. I felt uncomfortable with everyone looking at me from head to toe, and their judging looks made me feel almost guilty that I tried to be anything other then bland.

One of the manager's assistants, young Charles, came into the room and shouted that the next lady was up. Only a moment after the man stopped speaking, one of the chorus girls came running into the room, pushing past Charles, crying hysterically. The girl (who never moved her hands from her face) ran into the arms of one of the other girls, Claire, who patted the girl's back while smirking. She was comforting the crying girl, but it was obvious she was happy to have less competition.

No one stepped forward right away. I looked around, realizing that I could not stay in this room any longer. I wanted to get out of this room, to get away from these people before I couldn't breath anymore. I wanted to get these auditions over with and go back to my safe room, with my Angel.

"I am ready. I'd like to go next."

Charles looked at me, his eyes growing wide as he looked me over. I swallowed and waited for him to reply, but he only nodded and left the room.

It was quiet, but I refused to look around at the stunned faces around me. I walked out the room, as calmly as I could, and walked slowly towards the stage. Another deep breath, and I walked out into the light.

There were too many lights to see into the dark audience, but I heard coughing and some gasps as the light hit me. I knew that the managers should be there, as well as all of the interested patrons. I waited patiently for the music to start, but no one gave the signal. There were a few silent moments, and all I could do was stand still and wait. I wasn't sure what was taking so long, but I was growing nervous. Why were they so quiet? Were they just staring at me?

"…Shall I begin?"

Some coughs answered me, and then I heard a voice that I recognized.

"Begin the music. You may begin, please mademoiselle," said Raoul.

I nodded and tried not to think about how he was in the audience. I was surprised about how much I was bothered that he was going to hear me sing. I tried to focus.

When the music started, and my cue approaching, I began to panic. In the few seconds before I was to sing, I thought about how that girl ran into the room crying, how my Angel was counting on me, how Raoul was watching me sing for the first time, and all of those people staring at me in the room, hoping that I would fail…

But once I got my cue, I found myself unable to resist. I opened my mouth and released my voice, effortlessly filling the entire Opera House with silky, powerful sound. I closed my eyes, and just let my voice take over.

" _Ah! je ris de me voirsi belle en ce miroir,Ah! je ris de me voirsi belle en ce miroir,Est-ce toi, Marguerite,est-ce toi?Réponds-moi, réponds-moi,Réponds, réponds, réponds vite!"_

The music took over me, making me forget about everyone else in the room. The music was flowing through me, my voice connected to the music, as if one could not exist without the other. I sang, and my voice was the music's long lost lover, and the two danced with joy at finally being reunited. I began to move along to the music, knowing exactly how Marguerite would feel if she had just realized that she was beautiful. I had realized not even an hour ago that I was truly beautiful. I knew that I was meant to play this role, for how could selfish, spoiled Carlotta ever understand poor, sweet Marguerite? I was Marguerite, and in a just world, Carlotta would never be allowed to play my part. I continued, dancing around the stage as I knew Marguerite would.

"_Non! Non! ce n'est plus toi! Non...non,ce n'est plus ton visage; C'est la fille d'un roi;c'est la fille d'un roi! Ce n'est plus toi,ce n'est plus toi,C'est la fille d'un roi;Qu'on salut au passage! Ah s'il était ici! S'il me voyait ainsi! Comme une demoiselleIl me trouverait belle, Ah! Comme une demoiselle, il me trouverait belle, Comme une demoiselle, il me trouverait belle! Marguerite, Ce n'est plus toi! Ce n'est plus ton visage; La, ce n'est plus ton visage; Qu'on salut au passage!"_

I finished, with such passion and love that I felt dizzy. The music faded, and my voice still echoed throughout the Opera House. I smiled, knowing that although I might not be chosen, I made my Angel proud. There was only silence in the audience, so it was impossible to tell if they liked how I sang the song, but I was proud of myself, regardless of how they felt.

I was prepared to just leave the stage, as it was proper to do, when suddenly, a stern, harsh voice screamed, "Turn the lights on in the house, NOW!"

I was shocked, and I dared not to move an inch. I waited while the servants rushed to raise up the lights, which took a long time. When the lights finally came up, I could see each Patron and Manager looking at me with complete shock. The managers didn't even get up out of their seats, while all of the Patrons were standing, their faces white and their mouths hanging open. They stared at me, making me uncomfortable again, as if they had never seen me before. I looked at all of their faces, looking for some kind of reassurance or comfort, but I found none. Raoul was the only one of the Patrons that didn't get out of their seats. He seemed…surprised, but not shocked. He seemed moved, but his eyes held mine with a kind, gentleness that I thought comforting. I was grateful.

With a shaking finger, the large manager pointed at me. He didn't say anything for a few moments, but when he did speak, it was without anger or superiority.

"Where did you learn how to sing like that?"

I didn't answer. I was unsure of how to answer. I knew not to say my Angel taught me how to sing, but I didn't want to lie to the man. I remained silent, trying to think of something to say in reply.

I heard some whispering behind me, and I turned sharply to find everyone from the other room staring at me. I had no idea that they had followed to watch me sing, but they were all staring at me, some with absolutely no effort to conceal how amazed they really were.

I looked around the room, shocked, unable to think of something to do or say. I looked from the Patrons, to the people, and back again, lost at what to do. What did they want from me?

"I didn't know you could sing like that Christine…" I looked towards the voice to see Meg staring at me, looking as shocked as everyone else, but with betrayal added to her face. I tried not to feel guilty about keeping this a secret from her.

"It doesn't matter who taught her. It is clear that she is the best choice for an understudy. She sang it perfectly." I wasn't surprised that Raoul came to my defense, and though I tried to remember that he did nothing to defend me a few days ago, I couldn't help but feel grateful.

I was surprised, however, at how quickly everyone in the Opera House agreed. All at once, there was talking between the Patrons and between the people behind me, all supporting me as the understudy. I looked all around, my head spinning as I tried to keep up with everything going on around me.

"It is decided. Christine Daae will be the new understudy to M. Carlotta." It sounded like one of the managers said that, but it was hard to see. I didn't see them say anything, but it sounded like it could have come from either of them. I didn't get a chance to see for sure though, for everyone ran up to me at once, cheering my name, clapping enthusiastically. There were people surrounding me, on top of me, telling me that I was wonderful, that they were proud of me, that I deserved to be Marguerite….And I hated them.

They forgot immediately how they had treated me, and they all wanted me to forgive them as quickly as they had forgotten, just as my Angel told me they would. I hated them, for their foolishness and their cruelty. I smiled and nodded, saying as little as possible, wanting only to run back to my room and lock all of them out.

The rest of the people, who were not surrounding me, began to clear out. Only Raoul remained in the audience, watching as the crowd surrounded me and told me things that he thought I deserved to be told. Meg watched the crowd surround me, reluctant to join because of her realization that there were things she did not know about me, and I had kept these things from her. She no longer saw me as the Christine she had become accustomed to, and now she was aware that there was something going on behind her back.

And in the shadows, another remained, one that I had never really met before, yet knew me better than all of the fools. He shared in my triumph, silently and alone, and shared especially in my hatred of all those who surrounded me.


	20. Whirlwind

I returned to my dressing room after auditions, to celebrate with my Angel. I was relieved to find him ecstatic and proud, and we spent hours talking about what an accomplishment it was to become an understudy. He promised to shower me with more gifts, even though I insisted his attention and favor was enough. The beautiful things in my drawer were certainly more than I had ever hoped to even own.

I spent that night in my room, resolving to leave the Opera House in the morning to avoid the crowd of people that had become my unofficial posse of fans. But the next morning began the chaotic whirlwind that became the next few weeks of rehearsals.

I was awakened by my new posse of fans, which was made up of some of the younger chorus and ballet girls. They all wanted to make sure they were the ones that were privileged with helping me dress, and then accompanying me to breakfast. Meg joined us at breakfast, to be with all of the others, but she remained quiet and cold to me. After breakfast, I was called to rehearsal, which lasted the rest of my day, barely breaking for lunch, and barely ending before dinner. I would have been at risk of getting exhausted with practicing all day, and then with my Angel at night, but luckily, because of Carlotta, only my presence was needed.

Carlotta spent most of the rehearsals complaining about having an understudy. She let everyone know that no one could study beneath her, that her "genius" was unapproachable. She made rehearsals unproductive with her constant interruptions. Normally, Carlotta would refuse to go to rehearsals, saying that she didn't need to practice with the rest of us. But now that she had an understudy, she was determined not to give me a chance to participate with the rest of them. I already knew all of the music, and I was still allowed to observe rehearsals with Carlotta, but I was not confident that I could take over for Carlotta. I worried that my lack of practice with the cast would prevent me from being ready for my role. But as the performance dates approached, Carlotta began arriving to rehearsals later and later.

Carlotta missed a rehearsal after her carriage wheel broke down (and she was livid that I had been allowed to take her place, even if only for rehearsal). Another day, she was locked in her dressing room for hours, and she was not released until the door was taken off. Then, she was found asleep in the manager's office after only a half a glass of wine, and the next day she had such a terrible headache that she could not keep food or water in her stomach until it passed. A few other odd things happened, which allowed me to practice, if only for a brief time, the movements and the cues that Carlotta had tried to prevent me from learning. I became comfortable with the rest of the cast, and I was able to learn the blocking, much to the Prima Donna's displeasure.

I worked very hard during these brief rehearsals, and eventually, I felt that I was able to play Marguerite properly. Perhaps I could even play the part well, but it would be easy to be a better Marguerite than Carlotta. She strutted around, without shame, while pretending to play the sweet Marguerite. She did not care that she was suppose to be acting as another person, disregarding the fact that she was suppose to be telling another person's story. She acted as if this role, and the entire opera, was written in an attempt to have her on stage, singing loudly and unapologetically. I hated her for doing this to Marguerite, for I knew this character better than anyone else could ever possibly know a fictional character. I knew that Carlotta wanted to be loved for herself, but I sang and acted because I wanted everyone to love Marguerite.

I told this to my Angel. He told me that my heart was pure, even as pure as the sweet Marguerite's dear heart, but he hoped that I would be wise and strong as well, two things he found lacking in Marguerite. I became defensive of Marguerite, but my Angel changed the subject and would talk no more of the heroine.

A week before the Opera House opened "Faust", the Patrons came to inspect us. I thought it odd for the Patrons to take such a strong interest in our progress, for they had never been so active before. The managers were new, of course, but they were business men after all, and they knew how to run a business. There were rumors going around that more letters from "The Phantom" had been sent to the Patrons, but I couldn't believe that the Patrons were actually addressing them. How had the other managers kept the Phantom from extending his influence to the Patrons?

Philippe de Chagny stood up, causing the crowd of gathered people to immediately fall into silence. He took out a crumbled letter and began reading to us.

"The one who calls himself "The Phantom" or "The Opera Ghost" claims that our Prima Donna will be ill for the performances, and we are to put our Mademoiselle Daae…" His eyes flickered to me, a hint of aggravation leaking from his eyes. "…as our new Marguerite."

There was a needless gasp from the crowd, as if all of them had not heard the exact same warning a few weeks ago. Had they forgotten why I had been cast as an understudy to Carlotta?

"We do not believe that Carlotta will suffer, but there are more demands. He demands that Mademoiselle Daae be given her own dressing room, as it is proper for both the Diva and understudy to have dressing rooms. The managers and the Patrons all agree that this is acceptable, and an understudy should be given a private dressing room. However, let it be made known that we are not cooperating with the demands of this letter, only that we agree that it would be proper to do so. As for the other demands of the Opera Ghost's salary and Box five reserved for all performances, we will not yield. These demands will be ignored. I strongly discourage anyone from discussing the one who calls himself "The Phantom" further. Good day."

We were easily dismissed, and although I wanted to tell my Angel about being mentioned again by the Phantom, I was caught by Raoul.

"Christine, how are you tonight? It has been awhile since I've seen you."

"Yes, its been a few weeks. I hope you have been well." I looked around for any sign of his brother, but Philippe was no where to be found.

"Oh yes, I've been very well, thank you. I trust you have been well?"

"Yes, very well, thank you." Even though I wanted to leave, I was surprised by Raoul. He said nothing about my auditions or my new position as an understudy, talking as if nothing had changed. It was refreshing.

"I do apologize for this nonsense about "The Phantom", I know how it upsets you. But my brother felt it best to address it instead of being secretive, and I agree with him on that."

"Oh, thank you, I am fine. I understand that things must be done about it."

"Yes, of course. I have no doubt everything will turn out right. I am excited that we are to have a ball this season, I am very fond them."

"Oh? I did not know we were having one this season."

Raoul became excited. "Oh yes! A Masquerade, at that. It was decided only two weeks ago, to celebrate the success of new managers. My brother and I are sponsoring it, for we believe it would help relieve the stress of so many who believe in all of these mindless threats of the "Phantom". Besides, it has been awhile since a grant ball was thrown."

I nodded as I listened, already deciding not to go. I never did care to go to large parties.

"Will you be going, Christine? I was hoping to dance with you that night." He smiled, ever hopeful, as always.

I smiled, flattered, but I truly did not want to go. I didn't like grand balls or large parties, but now that every person in the company wanted my attention, I sincerely did not want to go for any amount of time. In the back of my mind, I worried that I would be forced to go, as a newly promoted understudy, but I hoped it would not come to that.

"Perhaps. If I do go to the Masquerade, although I might not, perhaps I may dance with you."

He nodded, expecting me to avoid giving him a direct answer. I wondered why he even bothered asking me anything if he knew I would give him an indirect answer.

"Of course. I know that Madame Valerius is not well now, but hopefully her health will improve, and I will see you both at the Masquerade."

I was startled, confused by his words. I focused on the conversation immediately, becoming tense with worry. Something was wrong with my dear Mamma Valerius? I knew she had been ill awhile ago, even being confined to her bed for a period of time, but I thought she had gotten better. I did not know that she had taken ill again.

"What did you say?" I asked fearfully.

Raoul looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but I assumed you knew…I believe, if I had heard correctly, that a doctor was called because of her poor health."

I was speechless for several moments. How did I not know about this? Had I become so focused on my own career and my personal life that I did not know about my Mamma Valerius' health? Why did she not send for me?

"Oh, excuse me please. I must go immediately!"

"Wait, Christine! Forgive me for telling you this, I did not mean to frighten you-"

"-No," I interrupted, already trying to walk away from him, "it is alright, but I must go see her, excuse me."

"Wait," He said, grabbing my arm gently, "please, if you wish, I can order my carriage and take you to see her myself."

"No, thank you, please." I did not want to be alone with Raoul. I knew my Angel would not like that, even if this was an emergency. I also did not want anyone seeing the two of us leave alone together, for with all of my new fame, I had learned to detest rumors.

"Then please allow me to call you a carriage-"

"Please, no Monsieur. I'd rather go on my own." I was getting anxious to get away from him now. I lightly tugged on my arm, but he would not release me.

"Of course, but Christine…Please let me see you again soon. It's been weeks since I've seen you, and I…forgive me for being so forward, but I've missed you."

This surprised me. Raoul had never been so forward before, and I blushed in response. His confession was unexpected for sure, for I had assumed that he was interested in me to become something like what Meg had suggested, like a mistress or a lover. But I had not really considered that he might have genuine feelings for me.

I smiled at him, trying to be as kind as possible, to avoid hurting his feelings. "You are very good, Monsieur. I will see you again soon, and I will even dance with you at the Masquerade, but for now, I must fulfill my duty to my dear Madame Valerius."

"Of course, thank you Christine." He nodded and released me.

I left him then, turning before his bright blue eyes and large smile kept me with him longer.

I rushed down the hallway, hoping to get my things from my room. I wanted to leave as soon as I could to see what was wrong with my Mamma Valerius. But as I was walking down the hall that eventually lead to my room, I saw a large group of chorus and ballet girls walking from the opposite end, headed towards me. They didn't see me yet, but if they did, they would rush to me and begin asking a million questions about where I was headed, what was I doing, what did I think of this or that, and the only thing that all of their questions would accomplish was preventing me from visiting my sick guardian. I paled at the thought of them asking me what Raoul and I had spoken about…

Without thinking, I ducked down a hallway, without paying attention to where I was going. I turned a corner and waited, hoping that I went by unseen. I began to hear their voices.

"Who was that?" A shrill voice asked. By the panicked sound in her voice, I guessed that it came from little Jammes, one of Meg's other ballet friends.

"I didn't see anyone." I couldn't recognize all of the voices.

"I saw someone! I know I did!" Jammes shouted.

"You saw nothing. It was just your imagination."

"No! I saw a dark cape flash around the corner…Do you suppose it was the Phantom?"

I looked down at my blue dress. At most, they would have seen the last bit of my dress as I turned the corner, and even if they had seen my dress flash in the shadows, it could not pass as a dark cape. I was beginning to realize how overactive the imaginations of the chorus and ballet girls were. I resolved to never listen to their ghost stories again.

They began to debate whether it was the Phantom or not, and I couldn't believe how ridiculous it all was.

"Let's go see!"

They then began to debate if they should follow the cape, but I had already began to run further into the dark, not bothering to wait and see if they agreed to follow me. Honestly, what a stupid decision it would be to follow a being that had a reputation of being dangerous. What would they do if they found him? It was a dangerous and silly idea, but I would not be around to let them find me.

I rushed to get to turn a corner, then another, then another, until I was running farther and farther away from the questions that I knew they would ask me. Whenever I slowed a bit, I would hear laughing girls behind me, and I began running again without looking to see if I was actually being followed, or I was imagining it in my panicked state. I turned corners, went down stairs, passed through arches, until I realized that I was unfamiliar with my surroundings.

It was darker where I was, with very few candles lighting the halls. It was cold and damp, smelling like wet, musty stone. I paused to catch my breath, looking around cautiously. I forced myself not to panic, and decided that even if I did run into the girls, I would quickly go back to my room.

I thought I could simply backtrack my steps, but I found that every turn was unfamiliar. I had not paid attention to the directions while running, and when I tried to retrace my steps, I couldn't make a single left or right turn with confidence.

I began rushing through the halls once again, not knowing whether or not I was making progress or getting even more lost. I turned a corner too quickly and ran right into one of the stagehands, Joseph Buquet. I backed away quickly, curtsying politely.

"Excuse me, Monsieur, I didn't know you were there. Pardon me."

I attempted to go around him, trying to leave, but he blocked me.

"Leavin your lover now?"

My mouth dropped, and blushing furiously, I let out a gasp of protest.

"Excuse me, Monsieur!"

"You heard me girl." He let out a grunting laugh, taking a swing of something extremely harsh smelling.

He swallowed the drink hard and then said, "You was with the devil, weren't ya?"

I could smell that liquid on his breath as he spoke. It made me sick.

"I was with no one! Especially not…the devil!" I was growing furious at his inappropriate questioning. I tried to move around him again, but he had the nerve to push me back with his free hand.

"How dare you!" I said loudly, but he only laughed at me.

"You were with him! No girl comes down here unless they were lookin for some pushing and poking from one of their men. Hell, Sorelli drags her Count down here all the time." He moved closer, and even though I moved away from him, it seemed like he took two steps toward me for every step I took away from him. "They used to lock themselves up in the rooms. It was really inconsiderate of them, don't you think pretty girl? But now they don't even bother hiding. It seems the second they get into some shade, Sorelli is bending over and pullin her skirts up, and the Count just goes poking away. They don't even notice anyone else around anymore!"

"Please stop this!" I put my hands over my ears, not wanting to hear anything about Raoul's brother and Sorelli. I had no idea they were so intimate with one another, but I didn't care at the moment. I wanted to run away from Joseph as soon as possible. I didn't like smelling that drink all over him…And there was something in his eyes that scared me.

He laughed and took another drink, finishing it, and he threw it across the hall. It crashed into a thousand pieces, and it made me shriek a little at the noise. Surely someone would hear that and come looking?

"Don't act so modest! I know you started laying with the devil a long time ago! I know how you got your singing so good, you ain't fooling me. You see, when you do your singing late at night, no one else hears you but me. I hear you all the time, all the way alone on the other side of the Opera house. We can hear everything down here. He comes to you at night, don't he?" He moved, blocking me from running around the corner, blocking me from moving at all. I was trapped in a corner, the wall against my back. I wondered if I should scream to get him away from me, but I assured myself that he was only joking, and he was only trying to scare me.

"There's always another voice…But you're always alone! He comes to make you sing pretty, and you let him slither into bed with you!"

I tried to shout in protest, but he grabbed me by my arms and shook me. Despite his rough shaking, I tried to yell at him anyway.

"Let me go! I have made no deal with the devil! I have a brilliant teacher, but that is none of your business! Release me at once, or I will scream!"

"Brilliant teacher my ass!" He scoffed. "Brilliant in the head and under your skirts, ain't I right?" To finish his sentence, he grabbed a fistful of my skirts, just below my back. I wrenched myself away, but he was once again in front of me, moving closer and closer, the candlelight reflecting off of his shinning eyes and wet lips, making him look hungry. I was sick with terror, realizing that if no one had rushed to find the crashing sound of the broken bottle, no one would come to me if I screamed. I had to run away from him, but he was blocking the only way of escape.

"He is a tricky, tricky fellow," He said, moving closer, "He might be teaching you now, but he's really after something else. But you won't even realize that it is the devil that you be lying with, not even while he is takin you like a common bitch. You coming to do that now, pet? Are you going to be his little bitch, on all fours as you howl and bark, with the devil poking you from behind?"

I screamed, putting my hands over my ears again. "Stop it! Stop it, get away!"

He laughed again, and I began to cry. "You won't even realize it was him, until you see his face. I've seen his face, you know. It's only the face a devil would have. You want to know what its like?"

"No! No, I do not, and I demand that you let me leave!" I shouted, but it had no effect on him. He went on, as if I hadn't said a word. I felt dizzy…The shadows around Joseph began moving over our heads.

"He's got a face of death, with two holes for empty eye sockets. He is always lookin at you, but you'll never be able to tell…They shine though. Have you ever seen black emptiness shine? His eyes do. And below the empty holes is another hole, a round hole where his nose should have been, but wasn't. His skin was yellow…It was the only way I was able to tell that he had any flesh at all! He had patched hair in clumps that curled around his head, like wires…He scared me almost to death. He is a monster, for sure…And you are going to share his bed one day, like the whore that you are!"

As he spoke, he grew larger and larger, his voice getting deeper and more excited, and as he finished, I finally let out a loud, piercing scream. I fought the urge to faint, not wanting to be unconscious with this man, but the darkness was creeping in front of my eyes. He cut off my screaming with his hand, violently pushing me into the wall. His hands were suddenly everywhere, pulling and tugging on me, dragging me to the floor. I found as much as I could, but he was pulling me lower and lower…

Suddenly, a shadow passed over my eyes. Just as quickly as Joseph as one me, he suddenly fell away, falling to the ground unconscious, and behind him stood Madame Giry.

Her walking cane was held over her head, and it was covered in blood. I looked at Joseph and , and I rushed to her, falling into her arms, sobbing. She held me close, tightly hugging me and whispering words of comfort as she rocked me.

"I was so frightened! He attacked me, ! He-"

"-I know, darling." She interrupted, making motherly noises that I had never heard her made before. "I know, its over now."

After a few more minutes, I pulled away, wanting to leave.

"Please, I want to leave. Lets go before he wakes up."

"No, we must wake him. It would be a disaster to leave him alone."

I pulled away, looking at her through tear filled eyes. "What? Why should we wake him!"

"To leave him now would be condemning him to death."

"Good then! Leave him here to die! I hope he does!" In my fearful, sobbing state, I didn't immediately wonder why he was in danger.

"DON'T say that!" She yelled, shocking me into silence, holding my breath to quiet my sobs. "Especially you, Christine! You must never wish something like that, for it might actually come true!"

I said nothing in reply. I was frightened, tired, and all I wanted to do was to run home to safe, dear Mamma Valerius. I could take a bath to relieve my skin from the tingling feeling where he had touched me. I wanted to get into my bed and forget about all of this darkness, the cold, and the smell of alcohol all over me, where men and shadows cannot touch me.

I didn't understand M. Giry's desire to help a man that had tried to take advantage of me, or why she felt he was in danger. Thinking about it, as M. Giry slapped Joseph's face to wake him, I realized that she was implying that Joseph would die because I wished him to.

"Why is he in danger? No one ever comes down this far…I don't understand."

"Christine, please, do not question me about this. It would be best if we not talk about it."

I was so tried and confused that I wanted to just let it go, but I had one question that would not remain unanswered.

"What will happen to him?"

"Nothing, I hope. Drunken fool refuses to wake though."

"No, I mean, once we tell everyone what he tried to do. They will make him leave the Opera House, of course…Won't they? They would never allow him to stay after this!"

Madame Giry froze for several moments. She stood up slowly, looking at me with pity in her eyes. She reached out to place her hand on my arm, and her low voice was curiously void of mystery, leaving only sorrow.

"Christine, we mustn't tell anyone. I'm afraid it would do more harm to you than it would to him."

I was beyond confused. "What do you mean?"

M. Giry's eyes darkened, a hint of anger in her voice. "Although you are the victim, and you did nothing wrong, and I stopped Joseph from truly harming you…The public will view you differently. They will treat you like filth, as if you were dirty, and as if you asked for Joseph to do this to you. You will earn the undeserved reputation as a whore, even when all that was done was Joseph attempting to hurt you. It could ruin you."

I was speechless. I wanted to argue with her and say that it wasn't my fault, but I had seen the hypocrisy in people. I had seen how they could turn so quickly, for no reason whatsoever. I realized that M. Giry was right.

I began to cry again. It was not violent crying like before, but a slow, deep, defeated sob that I could feel from my head to toes. I turned to leave, to get away from all of this horror, but M. Giry caught my arm.

"No, Christine. You must stay here until Joseph is gone. If you do not stay, there is no way I can protect him."

"Protect him? From what, M. Giry?" I said, tired and annoyed. I didn't mean to be annoyed with her, but I just wanted to go home. She seemed to understand.

"From the Opera Ghost, child! Do you honestly think that the Phantom will let Joseph live now?"

Until that moment, I had forgotten all about where I was. I realized that we were on the lower levels. We were in the Phantom's territory.

I looked around, as if I expected to see the ghost looming over us, but I saw nothing. I felt dizzy with the fear approaching, my weak constitution protesting under the stress of Joseph's assault and my intense fear of being so vulnerable within the Phantom's grasp.

M. Giry grabbed me, holding me up, lighting shaking me to pull me out of my panic. "Christine! Listen to me, we must get Joseph out of the Opera House immediately. Afterwards, I will call a carriage to take you to see M. Valerius."

I didn't want to stay, but I knew that it was pointless to argue with M. Giry. If I wanted to leave, I would have to wait until M. Giry was finished with me, or else she would never let me leave. I wanted to flee from the Phantom, having no desire to involve myself with him, or worse, anger him. I wanted to flee from the horrible, drunken animal that had treated me so brutely. And even though I could not logically counter any of these legitimate reasons to leave, I stayed with M. Giry.

In retrospect, it was silly for M. Giry to think that Buquet was safe from Erik after what he tried to do to me. If she had not come, he would have ripped Joseph off of me and killed him on the spot. At least I had the excuse of being ignorant of the real dangers, but M. Giry must have known Buquet was doomed. She fought to keep me with her because she knew that Erik would never, if he had a choice, harm anyone in front of me. Had she been alone, he would have ordered her to stand aside, and she would have obeyed, as he quickly finished Buquet. Understanding Erik as I do now, I know what she must have been going through. To try and save someone, even while knowing there is nothing you can do to stop Erik, if only for the sake of being a person who acts to save someone, instead of standing aside and submitting to the inevitable. It is a terrible feeling.

Joseph woke up eventually. He was groggy from the blow to the head, and the amount of alcohol in his system. M. Giry helped him up, and kindly did not ask me to help her assist Joseph in walking. He mumbled here and there, his eyes moving a little, but thankfully saying nothing that we could understand.

M. Giry would not allow me to leave until she had Joseph on a chart that was headed towards the hospital (another stagehand had agreed to drop him off at the hospital, but both M. Giry and I doubted that the stagehand would keep his word. M. Giry seemed content that he was away from the Opera House though). She got a carriage ready for me, and left to pack a few things for me, leaving me alone for only a few minutes. She put my cloak on, and I pulled it tighter, resolving to never go down to the cold levels like that again. As the men packed my few, small bags of whatever M. Giry could throw together, M. Giry touched my arm.

"Christine, things will get better, you'll see. You did the right thing by staying with us."

"But Madame…I'm not sure if I should leave yet." I said, suddenly realizing that I was leaving without saying a word to my Angel.

"Why not, my dear?" She seemed curious and alert…And somehow older than she did a few moments ago.

"Well, my…teacher was expecting me today. I haven't told him that I am leaving now, and I don't want to anger him again."

Her eyes narrowed, and she looked at me with uncertainty.

"Who is your teacher, Chrstine?"

I bit my lip and looked away, unsure of what to tell her. I couldn't tell her about my Angel, but I didn't want to lie to M. Giry either. "I've never seen his face…He likes his anonymity. But he will be very cross with me for leaving without telling him."

"I am sure he will understand."

"But M. Giry, I promised that I would never leave him like this again. He got very angry with me last time I left without asking his permission."

She sighed, looking very worn out. "Christine, you will not be gone long. You are an understudy, and you will have to come back at least by tomorrow morning. I will leave a note in your room, though, to announce that you are visiting a sick relative. Is that satisfactory?"

It wasn't good enough for me, but I decided to let it go. I couldn't argue with M. Giry when she looked so tired and weary. I realized that I had no idea how old she was, but it might be older then I suspected.

I got into my carriage and thanked M. Giry for everything she had done. I waved goodbye and leaned back into my seat, realizing how tired I was. I thought about what had happened today, amazed at how so many events can take place in a short amount of time. I hope Joseph never came back to the Opera House.

It would be some time before I learned that Joseph had disappeared. I was relieved, believing that he had run away, afraid that I would get him in trouble. But it was one of many things I would find out later, one of Erik's dark deeds that would shock and terrify me once I realized what had actually happened. It would make me sick, for years, to learn that after Joseph had stumbled to his little home, the man was snatched up, without anyone noticing. He was dragged down all of the levels and thrown into the most horrifying of Erik's torture chambers. He was left there, tortured with the powers of Erik's voice. Erik never touches his victims once they are in the torture chambers…It is all mental torture. This continued for some time, until Erik slowly lowered a noose into the chamber, and Joseph quickly and happily hung himself. Joseph was never given a stool or a branch to truly hang himself; He just pulled down, into a sitting position, sitting back until he could no longer breath, and fainted. The body hung there for hours, while Erik simply left it there until he decided to move it to a higher level, not wanting to provoke a search for him.

After so many years, and after everything that had happened, I still cannot make myself be more sorry for his death than I am. I find that I can't mourn for him. The only thing that I truly regret is that Erik is the one that killed him.


	21. Sickness

Sickness

I hadn't planned on staying with Mamma Valerius for two days. I had intended to see her quickly, assure myself that she was in good health, and then return to the Opera House by morning, to continue rehearsals. The Opera opened _Faust_ in mere days, and I could not neglect the importance of working with the cast in the last few days before a performance. But despite the way I was trying to deal with what had happened at the Opera House, I was not made of steal. I was so overcome with grief and horror the first day home that I could not bear to leave her.

When I arrived home, I visited her immediately, instead of taking a few minutes to rest first. Because I had arrived unannounced, there was no one there to warn or keep me from seeing what they were doing to my poor Mamma Valerius. I rushed up the old stairs, noticing how quiet it was in the house due to the lack of servants.

I walked into a fat, greasy man hunched over my Mamma with a skinny blade in his right hand. My Mamma's arm hung over the side of the bed, blood oozing into a dark bowl that the fat man was holding in his left hand. Her pale face was drenched in sweat, the candlelight reflecting off of each little droplet running down her cheeks.. Her weak eyes looked over to me, the only person to notice me in the room, and she weakly called out my name.

I lost all consciousness.

My eyes hurt. They did not itch or burn; it was a slow aching around my eyes that encouraged me to keep my eyes closed. I tried to push past it, but the pain and the utter exhaustion of my body defeated me for several hours. I slept for a long time before the nightmares began. They began subtly, but grew and grew until I was completely trapped in what I thought was reality.

I saw shadows and monsters, all repeating the Joseph Buquet. Over and over again, the hideous creatures chanted the words, telling me about the devil, how he was after me. I felt Joseph's hands all over me as the shadows became thicker and thicker, until they became binding, tangible blackness that clung to my skin. I was trapped by monsters, downing in darkness. At the end of a long, dark tunnel stood my Mamma Valerius, pale and sickly, reaching out to me. Over the chanting, I could hear her calling my name, reaching and reaching, and although I tried to reach back, I was bound by all of the evil of my nightmare. Still, I struggled to reach her, and I got closer and closer, battling the darkness and the shadows. But just as I was about to reach her, her wrists opened, as if just slashed, and bright red blood flowed from her wounds, making a large puddle of blood around her feet. She didn't notice, and for a moment I drew back, without meaning to do so. The moment of hesitation was all the darkness needed to drag me away. Mamma Valerius screamed for me to come back, but I was helpless, and I saw her collapse right before the darkness consumed me…

I awoke in my room, with the dawn peaking through my window. I laid still, not ready to leave the protection of my covers. My heart was racing and I felt a little sick, but after a few moments, I felt calm enough to sit up and push the covers back. I tried to push my terror out of my mind so I could focus on seeing my Mamma Valerius. Just thinking of the blood gushing out of her arm made me feel nauseous, and I decided to put a stop to that immediately. I did not know much about science or medicine, but I could not fathom how bleeding would make a person well.

I wanted a bath though. Even if it was selfish of me to call for a bath, I wanted one desperately. I rang for one of the morning servants. After a few minutes of waiting, the youngest of the servants, Ines, opened the door to my room. While being the youngest, she was also my least favorite servant of my Mamma's very small staff. I knew from previous conversations with my Mamma that she did not care for the girl either, but she had hired Ines as a kindness to the girl's mother. I tolerated her as best as I could, out of respect and gratitude of Mamma's great generosity with her limited fortune. But even though I was respectful of my Mamma's goodness, I did wish that someone else had answered my call.

Perhaps my Mamma Valerius had hoped that we would become friends, thinking we would have much in common because of our closeness in age. But even though she was only two years my senior, she acted as if I were a child. She was the only one that seemed to remember that I was Mamma Valerius's ward and not her actual daughter.

"Yes, Christine?"

I glared at her without meaning to. Despite of (or perhaps because of) all my troubles, I became angry at her yes of my name in a familiar way. It never bothered me before, but I found myself making a real effort not to scream at her. Seeing my unusual aggravation, she corrected herself.

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle Christine?" It was still not the proper way to correct way to address me, but I let it go.

"Yes. Prepare a bath for me please."

"Oh but Christine, I don't think that it is best for you. The doctor said to keep you in bed for a few days. It would make you sick if you took a bath right now."

She was not actually concerned for me, only using this opportunity to give her opinion. I was not unhealthy or frail; I was only sick because of my ordeal with Joseph Bouquet. The memory of his hands made me what to wash it all away.

"Thank you, but I will have a hot bath please."

Ines looked surprised. I rarely ever stood up for myself, and the girl had gotten used to bullying me when she didn't feel like working, but I didn't care anymore. I didn't care about Ines getting angry at me, or causing work for her. I would have a bath today.

"But the doctor-"

"Ines, I am not interested in anything that doctor has to say, and I have a bath now. While I wait for a bath, send Brigitte up with some breakfast. Just some cheese, crackers, and fruit please."

Ines didn't move, looking a little shocked and searching for words, but I was not going to be argued with this morning.

"You are dismissed, Ines."

She blinked, gave an awkward curtsy, and left. I rubbed my eyes, already regretting how harsh I was with her. But I pushed it away, trying not to add anymore stress to my mind. Brigitte was up in minutes with some food. She had an amused and curious look on her face, putting the tray down and moving away to watch me. I was annoyed with her, ignoring her unasked questions, and moved to eat.

My aggravation melted away when I saw what was on the tray. It was everything I asked for, but there was also sweet rolls, hot spiced milk, and a dish that she had made me when I was a child, cinnamon apple spices. It was my favorite treat, but Brigitte was the only cook that I had ever met that knew how to make them. Perhaps Mamma Valerius had asked her to learn unusual recipes to remind me of my Swedish nationality, but these French women obviously didn't know much about my native country's cooking. Still, it remained my favorite treat that Brigitte made.

I calmed a little bit and managed to smile at her. She knew I was not well, so she made all of the comfort foods that she knew I would like. That simple act of kindness brought me out of my dark mood enough to talk plainly.

"Thank you, Brigitte."

"No trouble at all, Mademoiselle. I understand how you feel. My own mother wasn't too tell herself awhile back, and I was in no mood for backtalk." She properly curtsied and left.

I smiled and nodded as she left. I began to eat, realizing quickly how incredibly hungry I was. I was grateful that I was alone, for that allowed me to forget my manners and eat with real enthusiasm, determined to satisfy this terrible hunger.

By the time I was finished, I had eaten all of the baked apples, two out of the three sweat rolls, all of the spiced milk, most of the wedge of cheese, and almost all of the grapes and strawberries on the tray. I finished and sat back, relaxed. I felt full all over, and the emptiness in my stomach and my heart felt satisfied.

Brigitte came back in and looked at my tray with surprise. "My, you were hungry! Parson me, but I did see that you had lost weight, but I never thought it was because you weren't being fed!"

I looked down, surprised. Had I lost that much weight? I thought just a little, on account of how much I had been rehearsing, but perhaps I had lost more than I had thought.

"I eat at the Opera House. I suppose it is only that I've been working so hard lately." Brigitte obviously did not approve, but she graciously said nothing more.

"Brigitte…How is my Mamma Valerius? She looked so…terrible last night. And what terrible doctor was that?"

She grew serious and sad far too quickly for my comfort.

"She is not well. It began with just chills and a slight cough, but it grew worse and worse, and soon she could barely get out of bed. And now, the doctor comes and bleeds her, at her own insistence! And that only makes her pale and weak…" Brigitte looked away to take a handkerchief to wipe her tears as she began to softly cry.

"Is the bleeding necessary?"

"It's all old fashioned, if you ask me. But she insists, and calls on him very often."

"I will talk to her about that. She's never called a bleeder before, and I don't know why one is needed now."

"That's not true. She called for one when her husband, God rest his soul," She quickly made the sign of the Cross, "grew very ill, and she still talks about how much it helped him."

"Well, that does not make sense." It was downright foolish. How did it help him? The man had died!

"Yes, well…" She stopped and looked away.

"What is it? Please, Brigitte." I stood and walked closer to her.

"Well…this disease has changed her mind. She is vulnerable right now, you know, not quite right in the head." She tapped her temple with her index finer. "She's calling out to people who are not there. She believes in things that she never did before. She's grown superstitious, but she's not crazy. She knows who we are, and she cooperates with me. She called for that doctor once, out of desperation, but with her mind as it is right now…"

I remained quiet, taking it all in. I swallowed back growing grief, determined not to get upset before I needed to.

"I do not want her bled anymore. After my bath, I want to see her."

She shook her head. " I do not know if that is a wise idea."

"Why not?"

Brigitte looked at me with such great concern, it surprised me. I had always liked Brigitte, but I had never caught on to a deeper connection.

"What if you catch this illness? You must sing in an Opera soon, and you cannot sing with a terrible cough. My dear, you have never had a strong constitution. Even as a child, you caught every illness of every season. I worry about you getting sick."

I was touched, but I hated her point. I knew it was true, but I needed to see Mamma Valerius. But I couldn't get sick while my Angel was relying on me to remain well for the Opera.

"Have you gotten sick Brigitte?"

"No, none of the staff has gotten sick, but I'll again point out that you have a history of a weak constitution."

"We will open a window, and I'll place a cloth over my mouth."

Brigitte looked completely unsatisfied with this, but she was smart enough to know that this was about all she was going to get me to do. She nodded and left.

I went through the doors to the wash room where Ines was still filling the tub. I might have gotten angry again if it were not for Brigitte's calming presence. Instead, I simply began to undress slowly.

The bath took awhile longer to fill, but when it was finally filled, it was wonderfully hot. I began to scrub my body vigorously, getting all of the tingling off my skin. I washed my hair as well, to Ines' protest.

"The doctor said it is unhealthy to wash your hair!"

"Is this again the same doctor that bled my Mamma Valerius?"

"Yes, of course-"

"Then I am not interested."

My bath took longer then I intended, but eventually I was satisfied enough. Ines helped me dress, also disapproving when I was dressed, and holding a clean handkerchief over my face, I went to my Mamma Valerius' room.

The window was opened, but it was still very dark. There was no fire, much to my surprise. It was not cold really, but the room was cooler then the rest of the house. The air was damp, and even with my handkerchief over my face, I could tell there was a strange, piercing odor in the room.

She looked pale, small, and shriveled. I swallowed at the sight of her, willing myself not to cry. I began debating whether I should leave or not, for she looked like she was sleeping, but she turned to look at me before I could decide.

"Oh, Christine! I am so happy to see you." Her voice was so weak.

"Hello, my darling. I came as soon as I heard you were ill."

She gave a small smile, but I could tell it was only small because it was all she could manage.

"I am so happy to see you. I've missed you so much."

I tried very hard not to cry. "I've missed you too. I had no idea you were will…"

"You've been so busy, Christine. I'm so proud of you, but my dear, I'm afraid I will miss your performance. I cannot leave my bed, but I want to see you perform so badly."

I shook my head, happy to comfort her in this. "No, dear, I am only the understudy. I will not be performing at all, as long as Madame Carlotta is well."

She seemed content. "Alright, my darling. I am glad that you are doing so well, though. I have worried about you for so long."

"Why, Mamma? Why are you worried for me?"

She did not respond right away, taking a few minutes to couch and catch her breath. It was a terrible, barking couch, and I could only watch as she wheezed and spit up some clear fluid. I felt so helpless.

"Because you are alone! Who else would take care of you once I am gone? Who will provide for you? I've always hoped you would marry a good man one day, just to know that you will not be left-"

Her growing panic over my state was interrupted by coughing again. Tears began to run down her face and mine, and even though I tried to calm her, she insisted on continuing through her wheezing.

"I just…want to know…that you'll be safe. I can't…help you…once I'm gone."

I began to cry. How could she think that? But while I was touched by her concern, I knew she was right. Without her support, I could never survive on my pay from the Opera House alone. To be an artist was one thing, but to sing to support myself was a completely different matter. There was a real possibility that I could starve.

I thought of my Angel, but the doubts that Joseph had given me prevented me from getting comfort. I thought of Joseph telling me that the devil was after me, and I could not help but think of my Angel as an evil being. I had no idea what to think about my Angel anymore, even though I felt horrible about having any doubts.

"I just…need to know, Christine. I can't stand the thought…that you won't be taken care of."

"Mamma, please listen to me. I have something very important to ask you."

She looked confused, but she calmed down, taking deep breaths while settling down. While she laid there, I observed her, noticing a strange glaze over her eyes that I had never seen before. Her eyes went in and out of focus, but after waiting a few seconds to see if she was alright, she asked me to continue.

"Mamma…Do you believe that Angels visit people? To guide them?"

"Yes, Christine."

"Well…I've been visited by one Mamma Valerius."

I expected disbelief, or even a moment to process what I said. But immediately, she replied, "Oh, Christine, that's wonderful!"

I blinked. "So…you believe me?"

"Of course! I knew your father would send you an Angel one day!"

I cringed, regretting telling her about my father's promise.

"Yes, but…Mamma, I'm so frightened." I shuddered, throwing away the stupid cloth over my face.

"Why, my Christine?"

"It's just…Please understand, he has been such a good Angel, Mamma, he has been so good to me. He is the reason why I am an understudy! He has trained me to sing wonderfully, and he has guarded me so well, I have never felt so safe…" I stopped, realizing that it was not true. He was guarding me, this whole time, but he had not helped me when Joseph had cornered me. I realized he had not protected me, like he had promised. I wanted to know why, when I had remained so loyal to him.

"It sounds wonderful, Christine…So what is the matter?"

I was again surprised at her complete faith in my Angel, without any questions. She looked happy and relaxed, and I realized that she was probably happy if only because she was able to believe that I would be taken care of now. I wished I had her faith.

"Well…someone told me…Oh, Mamma, I am afraid that I am being tricked! Someone told me that he is the devil trying to trick me! I have never wanted to do anything evil, and he has never asked me to do anything evil, but…I am afraid. Strange things keep happening that just cannot be because of coincidence…"

I was so close to figuring it out in that moment, the closest that I ever came to figuring it out on my own. I remember feeling as if I were about to put two things together, at last, and I might have figured it out if my Mamma Valerius hadn't interrupted.

"Oh, no, Christine, you are wrong. You mustn't doubt him. You are much too simple of a girl to be of interest to the devil. I know that an Angel is watching over you now. I am so happy to know that you are taken care of now."

"Mamma…Are you sure? How can you know that it is really an Angel?"

"You have to trust me child. I know that Angels help good people. An Angel helped me when I was a child, after my sister died. He sang to me and played with me when I was sad." She looked suddenly sleepy, her eyes looking very glassy.

"I didn't know that, Mamma."

"Yes, I remember him. He was sent by my baby sister to help me."

I thought that Mamma Valerius was an only child, but perhaps that was after her sister died?

"And you think that this is really an Angel helping me? I've never seen him before."

"Only children can see Angels. If you were younger, you could probably see him."

Again, I had never heard of that before, but she sounded so sure. She was looking around, no longer looking in my eyes, but even unfocused, she seemed to believe in what she was saying.

"So he really is my Angel of music?"

"Of course, dear. He will protect you, when I am gone." She closed her eyes, seeming at peace.

"But Mamma, you aren't going to die. You are just ill; you will get better."

Without opening her eyes, she said, "I will, though, one day."

I began to cry, not being able to hold back any longer. "Yes, but not soon. I still need you, Mamma. I am alone without you."

"No, you have your Angel. He will care for you when I die. But I will not die for awhile, I believe."

"Yes, I hope not. But I do not want you to bleed yourself anymore."

"But I need it."

"No, Mamma, please promise me that you won't do it anymore."

She opened her eyes and looked in my direction, never quite falling on my face. She knew I was there though, nodding in agreement.

"Thank you, Mamma. I love you, and I do not want you to make yourself more ill."

"I love you too, but you should go back to the Opera House. I know you have your performance coming up."

I did not correct her again about being an understudy. "I will go, soon, but not now."

"You should go back. I don't want you to loose your career, you need this-" She began to get excited, causing her to begin coughing again.

"I will leave in the morning, Mamma, I promise."

"You should talk to your Angel! You need him!" Her coughing began to stop, but she was still not calm.

"I will see my Angel immediately when I return."

She seemed confused. "You can't talk to him now?"

"No, Mamma. He only speaks to me at the Opera House." I wondered if that would make her think for a moment…Maybe she would remark about how it was odd?

"Oh, of course. It is for the best, I suppose." I blinked, surprised again.

"Yes…I suppose it is."

I left soon after that to let her get some sleep. I promised not to leave until morning, giving me the rest of the afternoon and night to do what I wished. But I missed my Angel, already determined to talk to him to banish all of my fears and doubts for good. I felt so terrible for doubting him, and I wanted nothing more than to beg for forgiveness and proclaim my undying love for him. Hopefully, he will accept that I was merely shaken because of what had happened in the lower levels of the Opera House.

I did not like all of the free time this afternoon. It let my mind dwell on the fact that Buquet was still going to be at the Opera House when I returned, and I was going to be in trouble for missing two rehearsals. I did not tell Mamma my other fears because I did not want to worry her, but I was very worried about what tomorrow would bring.

I eventually went to bed early, only to toss and turn for hours. I feared nightmares and what would happen when I woke in the morning.

But mercifully, I did not dream when finally falling asleep.


	22. Missing

Missing

I was relieved to see Mamma Valerius in the morning. She was sitting up in bed, resting against some pillows, eating off the tray that Brigitte was holding. She still had a frightening cough, but the color was back in her cheeks, and the glassy glaze had left her eyes. She seemed alert, smiling at me as I walked into the room.

After I finished breakfast with her, she insisted that I leave to rejoin the Opera House. I was reluctant to leave her, but her improvement in health gave me enough comfort to give into her wishes. Before I knew it, I was stepping out of the carriage and walking through the grand doors of the brilliant Opera House.

It was too early for rehearsals, so after I slipped a note to the managers explaining my return, I quietly made my way through the Opera House. I wanted to talk to my Angel right away, but as my luck would have it, I ran into the very group of girls that had caused me to run into Joseph.

They rushed to me, shouting about how they missed me. They quickly began to tell me about everything that I had missed. One of the girls had been invited to the salon of one of the patron's wives (yet with all of their giggling, I'm sure the husband was the only one the little ballerina had any intention of spending time with). Another ballerina had taken over a better part in the show last minute after the other ballerina was found to be too far long with a child (hopefully, it was her husband's baby and not the lead violinist that she fancied). There were other tidbits of gossip that I was not interested in, but I was relieved to here that there was no mention of any anger from the managers for my absence.

The girls made far too much noise as they followed me, making it impossible to slip by without attracting attention. As I made my way to my room, more and more people began to inquire after me as I passed, asking where I had been, why I had left so suddenly, and if Madame Valerius was in good health. I answered as quickly as I could, without going into detail, which only intensified their curiosity and questions. I began to feel anxious, resisting the urge to run from them again, reminding myself how terrible the last time was…

"I am glad to see you again, Christine. May I have a word?" Madame Giry said, taking a moment to glare at the other girls, effectively telling them all that they were no longer welcome. They lingered for a moment, before losing all of their courage and slowly began moving down the hallway.

Once we were alone, Madame Giry gestured to follow her as she moved behind a corner.

"Christine, how are you?"

"I am fine." I nodded, swallowing to hold my ground in my lie.

"I'm sure." Her eyes narrowed.

I stared into her eyes for a few moments, before her penetrating eyes finally defeated mine, and I had to look away.

"As I thought." She said, knowingly.

"Please, Madame. I do not wish to talk about this." I begged impatiently.

"Yes, yes, I know," She said, just as impatiently, "but I don't want to talk about that either."

"Then what is wrong?" I asked. "Madame, I would sincerely like to return to my room now."

"I am sure." She seemed angry all of a sudden, but before I could say anything, she looked away and took a deep breath. When her eyes returned to mine, her eyes were soft and sympathetic. It scared me.

" Joseph Buquet is missing."

I blinked a few times. I had no idea what to say.

"No one has heard from him since we last saw him. He never made it to the hospital."

"But that man said he would take him-"

"And he did, but Joseph never made it inside."

I was extremely puzzled. I had no idea what she was trying to tell me or why she thought I should be concerned.

"I don't know why you thought I would be interested in this."

"Do you know anything about Joseph, Christine?" She said, looking so intently at me that I began to feel like she suspected me of something. "Do you know where he is?"

"Of course not! How would I know anything?" I was a little offended by her accusations.

She looked at me for a moment, her sharp eyes softening into a look of realization. Her mouth dropped just a little as she looked at me, making me really uncomfortable.

"You honestly don't know…" She said in almost a whisper.

"Well…know what, Madame?"

"I thought you were acting!" She said, almost shrieking at me.

"What?" I said, getting hysterical. What did she mean?

She was silent. She turned away from me, walking just a few steps before turning around again.

"Christine, who is your music teacher?"

"Madame, what does-"

"Please just answer my question."

"I…I can't. I gave my word that I would not discuss this with anyone." I became severely uncomfortable. I began to back away, hoping that she would let me leave soon.

"Why not?"

"Please, Madame, this is private."

"Do you know who your teacher _is_ Christine?" She demanded.

"Of course I do!"

"No, you obviously do not." She said, turning away.

I began to hear Joseph in my head again…He was there, right there, in my head, whispering about how the devil was after me, reminding me about how the voice in my room was secretly a demon trying to seduce me…

"Yes I do! You don't know what you are talking about. You know _nothing_, Madame, nothing!" I could feel myself panicking, becoming frantic and terrified as Joseph's words grew louder and louder in my head. I attacked Madame Giry with determination, desperately trying to convince her, and myself, that Joseph was wrong. "He is good and kind to me, and without him, I would have been kicked out of the chorus and forgotten, doomed to become what _your _daughter encourages me to be…a _mistress_. But instead, he has made me into an understudy! He has given me more then I had ever hoped for, and without him, I'd be lost! My Angel is the only reason why I am even-"

"_Your Angel?"_ She said in a fierce, disbelieving whisper. Her eyes went wide and suddenly she was rushing towards me, her hands outreached. I took only a single step back before her hands closed around my arms, forcing me to be still and look her in the eyes. I was too horrified about letting my Angel slip out then being almost shaken by the ballet mistress.

"Oh no…I wasn't allowed to say anything about him! I said despairingly. First, my Mamma Valerius, now Madame Giry…There was no way my Angel would forgive me now.

"He calls himself an Angel?"

I began to cry. My Angel would leave me for sure, for leaving without a word and for betraying him to Madame Giry.

"No, he is an Angel. He is the Angel of Music that my father promised me…But he will leave me now because I've betrayed him." I said, feeling tears run down my face, and because of Madame Giry holding me still, I was unable to wipe them away.

Madame Giry stared at me, her face impossible to read. She just looked at me for another minute, before letting me go. She stepped back and turned away from me, putting her hand to her forehead, hiding her face from me.

"No, he will not leave you. He will never leave you, Christine."

"How do you know? You sound like you know my Angel." I wiped my tears away and sniffled back my sobs.

"I do not know any Angels."

"But how do you know-"

"Enough, Christine. Please."

We were quiet for awhile. I was trying to stop my tears and get in control of my panic, while Madame Giry never moved. I was astounded by the woman standing in front of me, and truthfully, I doubted that anyone had ever truly understood just how astute she was. Despite the countless times she proves her capability, Madame Giry would probably be underestimated the rest of her life.

I was not going to say anything before she did, but I was getting uncomfortable waiting for her. I knew that I was not allowed to leave yet, but I wanted her to say something. I hated standing here instead of rushing to beg for forgiveness from my Angel.

Suddenly, I heard whispering from Madame Giry's direction. Her hand fell away from her face and she straightened her back, still turned away so that I could not see her face. I strained to listen to her, but the whispering continued, and I could not hear the words said.

"Excuse me? I cannot hear you…" I said timidly.

She didn't reply at first, but when she turned around to face me, I took in a sharp breath. Her face was completely white and her eyes were wide, looking terrified. She had never looked so scared to me before, not even with Joseph.

"Madame, are you-"

"Christine, you should go."

"Wh…what?" I asked.

"Go to your room. Quickly."

I hesitated, unsure of what to do. She took a few steps towards me, making motions to move away with her hands, and her frantic motions made me rush away.

I moved quickly away, walking back into the hallway in the direction of my room. Madame Giry had managed to scare all of the people who had followed me away, so the path to my room was gloriously empty. After a few moments, I was unlocking my door and walking into my quiet, unoccupied room. I was able to take one single breath of relief, before someone pushed open the door that I had started to shut.

"Meg!" I said, surprised. It had been so long since she had come to see me, and I was extremely surprised to see her now.

"Why were you talking with my mother?" She said accusingly.

I closed the door behind her, shocked into silence by yet another Giry.

"What were you talking about with her?" She said, almost yelling.

"Nothing. Just little things about the past two days, that's all."

She seemed oddly furious at my answer. She even stomped her foot before she replied.

"You're lying to me!"

"No, I'm not! She was asking me about my Mamma Valerius."

"And why would she ask about your pretend mother?"

"Meg!" I protested. I had never heard her say anything so hurtful. She seemed to regret what she had said, but I didn't let her apologize. "How can you say that? She is very ill! That is why I left so suddenly."

"Christine…If that is true-"

"_IF?_ You think I would lie about that?"

"Well, why not? You seem content with taking everything that you desire for yourself!"

"What is that suppose to mean?" I asked, horrified.

"First, you somehow get this amazing singing voice, then you take all of my friends away from me, and now you and my mother are sharing secrets! All everyone can talk about is _Christine Daae_!"

I had to sit down in my vanity chair to absorb what she had said. She seemed just as horrified as I felt, and even though I could tell she regretted saying such hurtful things, my anger would not let me sympathize with her. Meg was not a mean person by nature. She was talkative, and often silly, but she had a good, well meaning heart.

I regret not trusting her goodness when there was enough time to save our friendship.

"Ever since you became an understudy to Carlotta," She said, her voice taking on an explaining tone, "you don't care about me anymore. We have been friends for years, but suddenly you think you are too good for me!" She had tears in her large, blue eyes. She seemed as if she thought it was all completely true.

"That is not true!" I said defensively, standing up to defend myself. "You've been avoiding me! And none of those people are my friends." I didn't want to embrace any connection to the people who follow me around.

"As if I _could _avoid the infamous Christine Daae! Your name is everywhere! You are all I hear about in the dining halls, all anyone ever talks about in the Bistros. I can't go a second without hearing _your_ damn name!" She said bitterly.

"Please, Meg, I am very tired right now. Can we please talk about this later?"

"You are always tired! You act so frail and weak, like you would break if someone so much as touched you!" Her frustration was beginning to infuriate me.

I thought of Joseph Buquet. I cringed, and stood my full height, squaring my shoulders.

"I am not weak. You are never to talk to me like that again."

For the first time in our relationship, she truthfully showed how intimidated she was by me. She stood her ground, but there was a shade of uncertainty in her eyes as she watched me.

All of the fury and hatred that had building up inside of me from Joseph's encounter, from constantly being followed and adored for lies, from my Mamma Valerius looking up at me in her absolute frailty…All of it came rushing up until I could not hold back.

"Goddamn you, Meg!" I shouted, my hands clawing themselves into my fisted palms. "If you weren't so damn selfish and self-centered, maybe I could trust you with the truth, but you are so mean and childish that you only make my life more complicated!" I turned away from her, feeling sick. I kept my full height, even with my back turned to her, not wanting her to feel like she could reply.

Silence followed. Silence, and then footsteps, then a door quietly closing. I had no idea if I regretted what I had said to her.

There was silence for a little while longer. I couldn't move, trapped standing and thinking about how I had permanently lost the only best friend I had ever had.

"Brava, my darling." He said, complete approval in his voice. "Very well done."

"Angel!" I said, surprised at his tone of voice. He didn't sound angry or disappointed at all.

"Hello, dear. I am glad to see you again, especially after that. I am quite proud of you."

As confused as I was by his good mood, I was overcome with guilt. Did he not know about how I had told Mamma Valerius about him? Or Madame Giry?

"You have been busy. First, the fool ballerinas, then two Girys. You must be exhausted."

I nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

"Yes, Angel…I've just had a bad day."

There was a moment of silence, before an eruption of laughter took over the room. I had never heard him laugh so freely before. I was caught up in listening to the beauty and clarity of it, enjoying the long moments of complete laughter from an Angel. But as the laughter began to calm, I remembered why I had expected anger from him. I grew cautious.

"So you are not mad?"

"Of course not." He said, laughter echoing in his tone.

"Oh. I…expected you to be."

"Over that little tiff with Meg Giry? I told you, I am proud. You showed wonderful strength."

"No…I thought you would be angry about her mother." I looked down, prepared for his anger.

"I am not. I suppose that woman will learn everything she wishes to know. But she will not interfere." He sounded so certain.

I nodded, but I kept my head lowered.

"Is there more?" He asked, almost playfully.

"Yes. I told my Mamma Valerius about you."

His tone was different in reply, not angry, but not the pleased voice he had used earlier.

"Why did you do that?"

"She was so sick. She said that she was afraid for me because I'm alone. I just wanted to tell her that I wasn't alone. She needed to know that my Angel was watching over me."

He didn't reply, and afraid that I offended him and made him angry again, I rushed on to assure him.

"But it is alright, Angel. She was so happy that I have you. She told me that you must be divine, that I must be true and devoted to you. She helped me let go of the doubt, Angel. Please don't be angry with me."

"What doubt? You doubted your Angel? Why would you do that?" I found the anger I was looking for.

"Only for a little while…after Joseph." I said timidly, cowering beneath his invisible gaze. "He said things about demons and the devil…and I was so scared." I had to stop talking for a moment because I began to cry. I was so ashamed of doubting him, and I just wanted him to understand. Hopefully, his understanding would bring him to pity me enough to forgive me.

"I was scared, Angel, that's all. I promise, it was only because I was so afraid."

"Christine, you believe in me, don't you? You believe I'm your Angel of Music."

"Yes, Angel, yes!"

"Say it, Christine. You _must_ believe in me!"

"I believe in you, Angel! I swear!"

We were silent for a few moments, and I wiped my eyes of tears.

"Christine…I thank you for your devotion, but I must ask you something. Why did you venture down into the lower levels of the Opera House?"

I blushed. It sounded so stupid now.

"I was trying to avoid the ballerinas. They have been pestering me so much, and I didn't want to be delayed. I was worried about my Mamma Valerius. I wasn't going to leave without your consent, of course. But Raoul told me that my Mamma Valerius was very ill, and I desperately wanted to see if she was really as sick as he said she was."

"I should have known that boy started all of this." He sounded bitterly angry.

"Oh, no, he only said that a doctor was called. He didn't mean to tell me really, it was a misunderstanding."

"And pray, how did he misunderstand?" He demanded.

I sighed and sat back in my chair. Was this really necessary?

"I was explaining to him," I said in a weary voice, "that I could not attend the Masquerade, and he assumed it was because of my Mamma Valerius's failing health." I did not say anything about my promise to dance with him if I did go to the Masquerade.

"But you must go to the Masquerade, Christine. The Prima Donna is expected to be there."

I was beginning to wonder if I was the only person in Paris that remembered that I was only an understudy. I said nothing about my station. We shared a few moments of silence. I was lost in my thoughts, thinking about how different things were.

"That isn't for some time though," He said softly, seemingly trying to reassure me, "so you should not think about it now, dear."

I nodded. There was another moment of silence.

"Do the ballerinas bother you that much? Enough to venture into the darkness without knowing your way? You know that there are creatures even worse then Buquet down there."

"Oh, I seriously doubt that." I said quickly.

"Perhaps. But the ballerinas, Christine."

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to hide from them."

"But why did you go down so far? The girls did not follow you after the second corner."

"Oh. I didn't know that." I said. "I could hear them laughing and talking in my head. Every time I slowed, every time I stopped running, I could hear them behind me. I really thought they were chasing me."

"You were imagining them, my dear." He said softly, almost whispering his dismissal of the laughter.

"I didn't know that…But I guess that crazy people never realize how insane they are."

"Crazy?" He said, surprised. The amount of alarm in his voice made me suspect that he was thinking the same thing. "Who said anything about being crazy?"

I shrugged. "I guess it would make sense. I hear your voice and the laughter of ballerinas in my head. Who's to say I'm not crazy?"

"You are not crazy."

I sighed and shrugged, giving up in this conversation. I was extremely tired of fighting with everyone today.

"Never mind that, my dear. You will have rehearsal late today, as the managers have moved today's rehearsal. It begins around four."

"Four? That is unusually late."

"Yes, there were some problems that they needed to deal with this morning. But while you have some free time, I think you should take a short nap. I'll wake you when it is time to get ready for rehearsal."

I wanted to protest that I was not frail or delicate, but I really did want to lie down and rest for just a few minutes. Part of me was still too grateful at my Angel's quick forgiveness to bother arguing with him. And my Angel only suggested naps when he was planning on giving me a lesson late at night. I obediently went behind my screen to change into something a little more comfortable.

It was harder to undress without any help, but I could not lie down with my corset on. Brigitte had helped me dress this morning, and she had tightened it far too tight. I finally loosened it enough to be comfortable during my nap, and once my dress was appropriately buttoned and secure, I moved across the room to my small, but comforting bed.

My Angel began to hum the melody of a Swedish folk song that I had been fond of as a child. The sound made me think of Sweden and my father, comforting me instead of making me miss them. I could feel myself growing sleepy, but I wanted to ask my Angel something before began my nap.

"Angel?"

He stopped humming for a moment.

"What happened to Joseph Buquet?"

The pause was long and noticeably tense.

"Why do you ask?"

"Madame Giry said he was missing…And she seems to think that something bad happened to him." And she also thought I was involved in his disappearance.

"He is repenting for his sins." He said simply.

"Oh." I said, surprised. He didn't seem like the repenting type. "How odd."

"Indeed." He began to hum again.

I listened to him for a few moments, until I knew for sure that I was not satisfied by his reply.

"So…he is not coming back?" I asked, a hint of fear in my voice. Even though I found myself hoping that he was not dead, I never wanted to see him again.

"Never." He continued humming, tempting me with sleep.

"Good…I hope he is alright. I don't want anything bad to happen to him, as Madame Giry believes that something did, but I never want to see him again." I yawned. His humming was starting to work.

"You don't need to think about him anymore." He whispered.

After a few moments of listening to the melody of the song, I began to sing along, recalling the Swedish lyrics perfectly. I sang simply, without concentration, as if I were singing in a fair again. While I sang, I could see the countryside of Sweden again. I remembered all of the fairs and weddings that we played for, remembering how happy my father was with his violin and his daughter. I remembered the stars at night while we slept near a campfire, and I could smell the scent of sweet hay and old wood from the barns that we stayed in during bad weather. The mountains always followed us in the distance during our travels, as did lakes and streams. I remembered home, even though I had never thought of it as my home, I had believed that I only missed my father. But as his melody carried my lyrics, I could feel myself aching for Sweden again.

"I miss Sweden sometimes." I said. I had stopped singing along with him, listening to him as I began to let myself go to sleep.

"You will be home soon. I promise."

I didn't focus on his words, finally taking a deep breath and surrendering to darkness.

Behind my mirror, unbeknownst to me, the humming man watched as I drifted to sleep. As he would tell me many years later, he watched over me for hours while I slept. He knew I would recover from the stress of Buquet's attack, and he knew how to help me. Pain and suffering had been a part of his world since his birth.

What he did not expect was what his deception was doing to my mind. He saw how vulnerable he was making me, how easily I was influenced by other people. He was very disturbed that I suspected myself as insane, and even more disturbed that a disgusting man like Buquet could shake my beliefs, while a sickly old woman could restore my faith. He realized how dangerous his lie was, for if Angels were real, then why not devils and demons and witches and spirits…and Phantoms. If he asked me to believe in him, my Angel, he was also unintentionally asking me to believe in other supernatural creatures. He began to realize how easily I was going to believe anything I was told.

He had planned to stay my Angel for a little longer, maybe another season or two, but now he knew that he had to stop this as soon as possible. He, unhappily, began to plan how he would tell me the truth about the Angel that I loved and the Phantom that I feared.


	23. New

I'm very disappointed that the font and color did not save properly. I had the perfect format for the Phantom's letter. Oh well.

Again, with all the love in the world,

Adela

* * *

I was one of the first to arrive at rehearsals, feeling calm and refreshed after my peaceful nap. I was not looking forward to the rehearsals today, for if the managers had moved our call time to four, they must have been dealing with something very important. I imagined them to be in foul moods, due to their morning business and my absence the last couple of days.

People began to gather, but no one else seemed happy about such late rehearsal. Everyone quickly went to their positions and began their warm up exercises. Meg came in late, but would not look my way. When the other ballerinas tried to wave and speak to me, Madame Giry quickly called them to attention, sending me an understanding, yet impatient glance. I smiled back, grateful.

Carlotta arrived and glared at me, obviously angry that I had returned. She immediately began singing her warm up scales. She sang simple scales so elaborately, with such determination and purpose, people began to turn their heads in confusion. I sighed and looked away, making sure not to roll my eyes. She had intimidated me in the past when she did things like this, but all I felt toward her petty, childish antics now was aggravation.

She stopped by the managers, who told her that she was needed in the chorus room, to give her input on their progress. I raised an eyebrow at this, but Carlotta shot her nose up in the air with a smile on her face and happily pranced away to the chorus room.

When she was out of earshot, the managers motioned me to the stage. I quickly walked over to them, worried that they were going to be angry with me for being away so close to the opening of our next Opera. But when I got on stage, two costumers quickly ran over to me and attacked me with tape measures.

"We need a costume for the understudy." The large manager said. That explanation was all I was to get.

Eventually, I changed into a costume that had been made for me based on assumptions of my measurements. Once changed, I was brought back on stage for the costumers to make the adjustments, using the stage lights to see how the dress would look during a performance. It was a standard process, but everyone rushed about in hushed tones. It dawned on me that they feared Carlotta's temper. I hadn't realized her jealousy had grown to this point.

It was far too silly for Marguerite. It had bright, loud colors (yellow being the dominate color) with bows, lace, and ruffles all over the dress. It was a replica of Carlotta's costume, and I had heard that she was pleased with her dress. It was well known that Carlotta would not perform in a costume that she did not like, so many of her costumes (like this one, I'm sure) were made to appeal to her taste. The dress was very close to being hideous, in my opinion.

I was on stage in my costume as the seamstresses were making adjustments, when a loud scream interrupted us.

"What is this?" She shrieked, gesturing to me.

The little manager quickly walked over (in a submissive posture) to her, already beginning to beg her for mercy.

"Oh, we are just making a costume for the understudy, Madame. She did not have one yet-"

"She does not need one!" She said, choosing her words carefully, holding back her Spanish accent to emphasize her anger.

"Of course! We did not wish to, but the Patrons insisted. It is only for their benefit, we assure you."

"Then make only one! She can pretend to use mine for Patrons! They see her in my costume, they are happy. _She_ does not deserve a costume!"

I frowned at her, standing my ground. She clenched her jaw, glaring harder in my direction, seething at my indifference to her fury.

"Actually, we wanted to do that!" The little manager ignorantly said. "But your costume was far too big for Christine."

I wanted to groan. What fools.

"WHAT!" My costume es not too Bigah!" She screamed. Her Spanish was beginning to slip out. The managers were in big trouble.

"Oh no! Of course not! It's not large at all; it's grand and wonderful! It's the perfect size!"

"My dress es no "too bigah"! She es thin, like ah broom!"

"Of course, Madame!"

The screaming went on for awhile, until I was dismissed to take off the dress. I changed and returned to rehearsals to quietly watch Carlotta punish all of us with her thunderous voice.

Rehearsals ended quickly as it grew late. I returned to my dressing room to practice with my Angel, who remained in a good mood to my great relief. He was pleased with my voice, but made sure that every note was perfect. He repeatedly told me that he was proud of me and my hard work. I didn't know what to say, for I did not think that I was working hard; it was all effortless to me now. I sang every note perfectly, but it was not a choice to do so. I found myself unable to sing out of tune or to slur my diction. His teaching had permanently perfected my voice, but I would never tell him in fear of giving him the idea that I no longer needed an Angel.

The morning of our first performance began as all other performances did. I fully expected to wait in my dressing room until it was all over, not even bothering to watch the crime that Carlotta was about to commit as Marguerite. I ate breakfast alone (most of the ballerinas and chorus girls did not eat anything the day of performances) and spent the next few hours with the cast, preparing for the performance. The ballerinas did elaborate stretches, while the singers did endless scales. Carlotta was not with us while we rehearsed, but no one was surprised, and no inquiries were made.

My costume was missing. The costume mistress claimed that they had no idea where the terrible costume was. Rumors began immediately that Carlotta had paid someone to sabotage it, and I did nothing to end these rumors. Even though I did not believe that she paid someone to get rid of my costume, it was not because believed that she would find it immoral to do so. I simply did not think she had the intelligence to think of something so elaborate.

The costume mistress began to panic, but I did not know why she was so upset. I was not the one performing, and I was unlikely to perform at all. Also, I could only pretend to be concerned about a truly terrible dress. The poor woman began looking through old costumes, hoping to find something that could pass for a costume if I needed one, but before she found anything, a boy servant announced that I was needed in the manager's office. I thanked him, and after assuring the costume mistress that she had nothing to worry about, I left to go see what they needed of me.

They had strange news for me.

I curtsied before the manager and tried to tactfully avoid using their names because I did not remember which was which. The fat man nodded to me without smiling, while the little man made an effort to be polite, smiling and giving a small bow.

"Do you know anything about this," The fat man waved a piece of paper in my face, "Mademoiselle Daae?"

I took the folded paper from him and opened it. The letter was written in dark red ink. The penmanship was legible, but only barely, following no linear system. It was sporadic and uneven, as if written by a child. It was quite disturbing to look at, and frightening to read.

**_To the Managers,_**

**_I noticed that Marguerite is missing a costume. It was very careless to loose the first, but because I consider it a great fortune to be rid of such an unforgivable travesty to the stage, I will forgive the unprofessional management of my Opera House. I hope this helps the new Marguerite in her glory in tonight's Faust._**

**_Ever your obedient servant,_**

**_O.G._**

I looked up at the managers, shaken and confused at such a strange letter.

"O.G.?" I asked.

"Opera Ghost." The fat one clarified.

I let out a shriek and dropped the letter in horror. I had never seen a letter from the Phantom before. It was a real letter, not one of rumors, but real, tangible letter.

"So you do not know anything about it?"

"Of course not!" I said furiously. I quickly sat down, still horrified at having held a real letter from the Phantom.

"Are you sure?" The fat man pressed.

'Of course I know nothing. How could I?"

The managers exchanged glances, before looking back at me.

"Well, what do you think about it?" The little man asked.

I blinked, looking at the men, wondering if they were serious.

"I don't know what to think. I thought only my costume was missing."

They looked at each other again and back at me.

"What do you mean, Mademoiselle?" The large one asked.

"Well, my costume is missing, and now Carlotta's costume is missing." They still looked confused. I remembered the rumor about Carlotta taking my costume, and in a split second decision, I decided to use it to explain myself. I felt surprisingly vindictive towards Carlotta, despite my current shock at being confronted with tangible proof of the Phantom's existence. "I had thought that Madame Carlotta had…ordered my costume away, but if her costume is missing as well, I suppose she did not take mine."

Realization spread over the little man's face almost immediately. The fat man took a little longer to catch up.

"Only your costume is missing, Mademoiselle."

"But the letter said that Carlotta's costume was taken." I said.

"The letter said that the new Marguerite's costume was missing."

"Yes, and so it is. Carlotta's…_Madame_ Carlotta's," I corrected myself as the fat man cleared his throat, "costume is missing." If they insisted that we converse in circles, the least they could do was offer me something to drink. My throat was beginning to feel dry as I grew more and more anxious.

"Madame Carlotta is not the new Marguerite from the letter." The fat one said with great impatience.

If they were expecting me to read their minds, or if they were waiting for me to come to the answer on my own, we would be in this office all night. This roundabout conversation was very common in delicate situations among Parisians, and very citizen in Paris was brought up to deliver unpleasant news in this fashion. When I was younger, I grew frustrated at the inability to just say the very thing they wished to say. Growing older made me more accustomed to the procedure, but today, in this very moment, I felt like I was about to scream at the two men in front of me.

"Please, Monsieurs, I beg you, just tell me the point to all of this. What are you trying to say?"

They were still for a moment, and after a quick glance at the fat man, the little man lost his unprofessional stance and asked me a question in a shaking voice.

"Mademoiselle, would you like us to call for someone? We must speak frankly to you, and given your history with…well, we know you as one with a delicate nature-"

"Oh, for God's sake Armand, the girl is fine. Just tell her already." As surprised I was at his tone, I was secretly happy that a name was used, for I finally found out which man was which. If the little man was Armand Moncharmin, then it meant that fat man was Firmin Richard. I would make sure to remember which man was which from now on.

Armand nodded and took a deep breath.

"Mademoiselle Daae, it seems that Madame Carlotta has become ill tonight-"

"My foot she has become ill! After the note that was send to her, I'm amazed she stayed in Paris!"

I swallowed hard. I knew that he meant the Phantom had sent her a note…Apparently a frightening note.

"Firmin, please! She has become ill!" He turned to me, and for the first time since I first saw him, he looked frighteningly angry. "She has taken ill. Do you understand, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes, sir." I said softly.

"She has become ill," He repeated again, "and cannot perform tonight. You, her understudy, will carry on as Marguerite…Hopefully, only for tonight. We are determined not to refund a full house, and we are sold out through the weekend."

There was a long pause. They seemed to be waiting for a response, but I could barely breath. I felt dizzy, as if I could not find my center of composure. My Angel's voice began to float through my head, and I began to remember all of our conversations when he would talk about how I would shine as Marguerite. I remembered being annoyed at how many people seemed to forget that I was only an understudy. I deeply regretted not taking my Angel's words seriously.

"Oh. I see." I said calmly. I said nothing else, and I found it difficult to move.

Firmin cleared his throat and whispered something to Armand. They began whispering back and forth while I sat in silence.

"We are happy to see you taking this so well, Mademoiselle." Armand said with an uncertain hint in his voice.

A few moments passed without any of us speaking.

"Mademoiselle? I hope we can trust….We made you an understudy in case something would happen, and accepting that position, you made a commitment. You must carry on tonight as Marguerite." They would never speak like this to Carlotta, and through my shock and fear, I was aggravated that they felt like they could bully me. I said nothing in reply, focusing on how much I wished I had believed my Angel when he told me I would be the lead in 'Faust'.

I looked up to see both of the managers studying me. Hoping that I seemed indifferent instead of how I truly felt, I stood up to face them. I took a deep breath to steady myself and prayed my knees would not fail me.

"I regret that Madame Carlotta is ill, and I pray for her quick recovery, but I assure you that I am fully ready to fulfill my commitment as Marguerite. I thank you for your confidence and support, and with this sudden…surprise, I will ask to take my leave to prepare."

They seemed surprised, even a bit relieved. Armand nodded immediately, properly thanking me and saying goodbye. Firmin was not as naïve as his partner, and pressed me a little further for his own personal assurance.

"So you will be able to carry out your duty? It is a great responsibility. You are going to be our leading lady on an important performance. This is only our first season as owners and managers of the Opera house, and we cannot afford to have a flop." The fat man lost his arrogant, impatient tone for a moment, looking down at the floor before looking back up to look me in the eyes. "I realize we are placing a large weight on you on very short notice, Mademoiselle. If we could do more to shoulder this, we would indeed, but unfortunately, we have no choice but to rely completely on you."

I nodded, understanding completely. I was not mad at him for doubting me, for I understood how much pressure they were under. I knew that Carlotta's name meant something, and she had a very loyal fan base that had grown over the years. She was an asset to the Opera House, and she had worked hard to make herself into one. She attended endless galas and parties to establish herself among the wealthy and privileged, until she was well known and well respected. A large part of our audience came to see their diva perform, and without Carlotta, our audience numbers (as well as nightly profit) would decrease greatly.

"It would be my greatest regret to disappoint those who have trusted me with this great honor. I hope only to make my friends and company proud."

Firmin seemed to realize that although he may have doubts, he had no choice but to let go of any control he had over the situation, and let me carry the burden alone. I felt sorry for him, and intensely unsure of myself, but I knew I had better give them hope, while I panicked alone.

They both bowed, and I curtsied, but before I could fully get out of the office, Armand called me back in. Looking at them curiously, I watched as the little man ran to the other end of the room to pick up something and bring it to me. It was a gown that he brought to me, a dark blue gown. It reminded me of the dark lakes of Sweden, the dark blue of the water during a storm. The color reminded me of water reflecting mountains and trees and green northern lights. The dress was simple, no silly ruffles or bows or lace, but it flowed forever in the skirts. I could tell that when the skirt of the dress moved, it would move in waves, just like the water it reminded me of. The sleeves opened at the elbow and the neckline swept across the collar. There was a cream colored head scarf to go with it, with a simple red ribbon to go around the waist to give it just a little more color.

"What is this?" I asked curiously.

"Well…" Armand stammered, holding the dress up to show me a little piece of paper that was clipped on the dress. "It came with the letter, Mademoiselle. It has a note for you on the dress. We did not read it."

I seriously doubted that they did not read the note, but I did not voice my distrust. I cautiously reached over to take the note off the dress. I swallowed hard as I saw the terrifying blood red handwriting.

**_To the new Marguerite,_**

**_I look forward to the triumph you will bring to my stage. This costume is for a real artist that relies on pure talent and skill instead of noise and ruffles. The magnificence and glory of your debut will celebrated through all of Paris._**

**_Always honored to serve you,_**

**_O.G._**

I could feel my heart racing. I needed to talk to my Angel as soon as possible. I needed his comforting words and guidence about my new role and the Phantom's letter, and I knew that if I did not get back to my room soon, I would fall apart. I shivered, taking a deep breath before I raised my eyes to the managers. Both shrugged, forgetting that they just claimed to know nothing about the contents of the letter. I offered it back to them, but both shook their heads furiously.

"We have enough of those, thank you." Armand said. I nodded, putting the letter in my pocket. I took the costume with me as I left the office. The once lovely dress seemed tainted now that I knew where it had come from.

"The other letters wouldn't be so bad if they were as pleasant as that one." I heard Firmin grumble as a I walked out.


	24. Glory

I decided to drop off the costume in my dressing room before heading to my room to talk to my Angel. People walking by began to notice that I was carrying an unknown costume with me, and although everyone was busy with preparing for the performance, I began to get questions about what I was holding.

"The replacement for my costume." I said simply, trying to keep walking.

I thought I would be able to make it to my new dressing room, delaying the moment when everyone would find out that I would be the new Marguerite tonight. I wanted to just put the costume in my dressing room, and seek out guidance from my Angel. I desperately wanted his help…I must be in shock because I still felt surprisingly calm. I was afraid, of course, but I was oddly unsurprised. Maybe I had believed my Angel when he told me I would perform, without realizing that I did.

Suddenly, two women came towards me and blocked my path. One began to take the costume out of my hands as the other woman introduced herself.

"Good afternoon, Mademoiselle Daae. My name is Florence Hébert, and this," She indicated the woman who was now holding my costume, "is Louise Tessier. We were hired by Monsieur Firmin Richard to help with your hair and makeup. We were surprised to hear that you did not have your own personal maids."

I understood everything, but motioned them to keep their voices down and follow me. I didn't want anyone to hear them and start to ask questions, but even though I tried to get the three of us to my dressing room without drawing attention, we were eventually followed. No one asked anything directly at first, and we might have made it back to the room without any problems if it wasn't for Florence.

"Pardon me for asking, but will you be wearing a wig, or styling your own hair?"

"A wig, I suppose." I answered softly, motioning again to be quiet. Louise nodded, but Florence persisted in a louder voice.

"Where should I go for this wig?"

"Ask the prop mistresses."

"I must say, this is highly unusual. We will have to rush to get everything in order before the performance."

A ballerina had followed us quietly until she could no longer keep silent. She assumed she had a right to ask me, based on the few times she had sat next to me during my meals, who these women were.

"Christine, are these your new maids?"

Before I could answer, Florence spoke up. "We are here to help Mademoiselle Daae prepare for her role as Marguerite."

And from there, it was chaos. First, there were questions, and assumptions were made, and those who had heard rumors immediately voiced them. I glared at Florence, who finally began to look around her and realize what was going on. People began to gather around me to congratulate and question me, but I immediately began to pull the two women through the people surrounding us, hoping that I could make it to my dressing room before the entire Opera House knew what happened. But we were followed, questions being asked without expecting an answer.

"Christine, you will be wonderful! I can't believe you will be the new Marguerite!"

"Did you know Carlotta would be missing?"

"Are you sure you won't faint, Christine?"

"I bet her Viscount had something to do with this!"

"Oh, Madame Carlotta must be livid!"

"That dress is so plain! Won't you wear something else?"

My dressing room door was opened, and Madame Giry helped Louise and Florence in first, before pulling me through the door way. She closed the door behind her, and even through the thick door, I could hear her screaming at my followers. While she screamed, I moved to sit at the little vanity at the other end of the room. Small in comparison to Carlotta's dressing room, I liked the small sofa, the floral screen, the little table with flowers, and the large full length mirror next to the vanity. It was not intimidating or pretentious, even hinting of cozy, but I suddenly wished it had more distance between the dressing room door and myself. I wished that I had a continent between us.

"I apologize, Mademoiselle," Florence said, looking from me to the door, with wide eyes, "I realize that I shouldn't have said anything. I've never seen people act like that before…" She looked genuinely shaken.

I nodded at her reflection in my mirror.

"It is alright. I am not sure why they act like that either. It isn't always like this, or at least it wasn't always like this. Only recently."

Florence still looked shaken, but she nodded in reply. She mumbled something about finding my wig and turned to the door. She slipped my Madame Giry, leaving the room and the chaos, but the door shut too quickly for me to see if she was followed.

I said nothing, wishing I had been able to get to my room before this crowd had trapped me in here. I thought about performing without speaking to my Angel first, and I knew I would never be able to do it. I would panic and disappoint my Angel, and all of his teaching and guidance would be in vain. I leaned forward, putting my elbows on my vanity and my head in my hands.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle Daae?"

"Christine."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please, just call me Christine." I said through my hands.

"If you wish…" She said after a pause. It did not slip my notice that she did not use my name. As strange as it sounded, I longed for the comfort of the sound of my name, for only people that I loved called me by my normal first name. My father, my Mamma Valerius, my Angel…All who loved me called me by my name. I longed to hear my name spoken by my Angel, but until I could hear it from him, I just wanted to hear the name that only those who loved me used.

"Christine…" She said, using my name carefully. "Perhaps it would be best if we get you into your costume."

"Now? I said, trying not to panic. "No, it's far too early for that."

"Actually, it is getting rather late. We still have to do makeup and your wig."

She showed me her pocket watch to show me the time. I gasped at the time, for she was right. I could not believe how late it was.

"Alright then…"

She helped me change behind my screen, into the cursed dress from the Phantom. As beautiful as the dress was (and it was stunning on me), could not appreciate it. It was frightening to wear because every stitch seemed precisely accurate to my figure.

Florence returned with the flowering wig of Marguerite, and both of them went to work securing it on my head. While Florence continued to fuss with my wig and costume, Louise began applying heavy powder and rouge, darkening my eyes and reddening my lips.

I was impressed with their skill, but I was far too terrified to compliment them. People began knocking on my door more and more frequently, warning me of the time. Madame Giry only allowed people delivering flowers to enter my room, although many more tired to get in to talk with me. The managers send some flowers for good luck, but they might have just given me the flowers they had intended on giving Carlotta.

It was all happening so fast. I wanted my Angel with me, to reassure me, to tell me just how I was suppose to be the Prima Donna.

People seemed to be rushing all around me, as I sat still, waiting for the moment that I would be expected to carry the entire Opera company on my shoulders. How can they expect this of me?

Madame Giry opened my door suddenly, pushing the door shut. She seemed and out of breath, her face paler than usual. She reminded me of the terrible day she rescued me from Joseph, with her eyes wide and her mouth stretched out across her face. I had to close my eyes to control my breathing, repeating to myself over and over not to think about that horrible day.

"Christine, you are needed on stage soon."

I nodded, but made no attempts to get up. I desperately wanted to stay here and talk to my Angel.

"Should we wait for you on stage, Christine?"

I nodded with great enthusiasm, hoping that I would, if only for a moment or two, call for my Angel. Madame Giry motioned for the two maids to follow her. Florence moved right away, having no objections to leave the person of such great fixation. But Louise, with a surprising gesture of loyalty, looked to me for approval. I nodded, thankfully, and only then did she turn to leave. Perhaps she pitied me.

Within moments of their departure, I was on my feet, looking around the room.

"Angel?" I whispered.

"I am here, my darling."

Relief spread through me, and I took a deep breath of gratitude.

"Angel, how will I do this? How can I sing like you expect me to? In place of Carlotta? How will I get through this without ruining myself?"

"You will be magnificent because that is who you are. You will bring tears to all of Paris tonight not because you wish to, but because it will come as natural to you as breathing. Christine…" He said my name so tenderly, so passionately, that my fear began to melt away as an intense warmth spread through me.

"Christine," he repeated, "you will bring glory to yourself and your Angel. You will show what I have known all along, that you are meant to be loved and adored by all who have the luck to know you. They will see your beauty and hear your soul, and they will be defenseless against you. It is your destiny, Christine Daae, to be worshiped as the greatest Opera Singer in all of the world. My darling Christine…My love…"

A single tear ran down my face, but before I could respond, a loud knock made me turn to look at the door. I was reminded of my trial and fear, and I felt my throat closing.

"I'll be out in a moment…" I said loudly, before turning back to whisper imploringly, "Angel…" I said with uncertainty.

"Be true to Marguerite. Remember what you said to me? You told me that Carlotta could never be Marguerite. You said that you only wished to honor Marguerite in your talent…Then do so! Let the world hear your glory as you bring Marguerite to life."

I remembered saying that to my Angel, and if had not reminded me of this, I would have fallen apart on my way to the stage. I thought of Marguerite, and I was inspired to sing her story of love, betrayal, and redemption.

Instead of thinking about the honors of what could happen on stage, I thought of Marguerite. I would have the privilege to become Marguerite for a night, to show all of Paris how she truly felt, before Carlotta captured her once more.

It was strange, but I felt as if I was telling the truth. People, especially as of late, seemed to live in an Opera production.

"I've never really thought about it before, Angel," I said thoughtfully, "but I believe that acting on stage is one of the most honest things I've ever done."

He was silent for a moment.

"All the world is a Masquerade, my darling. And I pity the company for not recognizing your brilliance before tonight."

I smiled. There was a loving, quiet moment between us. And although it was only a moment, I immediately knew that I was going to do all that my Angel said I would.

"Go, Christine. Sing with your soul, for me. Give Paris a glimpse of Heaven tonight.

Madame Giry opened my door, apologizing but stating that we could not wait any longer. She and the two maids escorted me out of my dressing room, passed men and women getting ready for the stage. I could hear talking beyond the curtains and stage walls, realizing that the house must be full already.

The manager's voices suddenly burst through the talking, calling for attention in pleading voices. Madame Giry whispered that they were making the announcement that I was to carry on as Marguerite in Carlotta's absence. I heard a sound that seemed like surprise, but I did not hear any protests.

I waited in the wings, surrounded by Madame Giry and the maids, happy to have them guarding me. With no warning, the orchestra began playing the introduction, and I waited my entrance with a strange sense of peace.

I sat at the spinning wheel and began to pretend spinning. I braced myself as the light fell on me, as Faust and Mephistopheles looked upon me in his vision. I heard no reaction to me, and I did not expect one. I would get my judgment when it was time to sing.

Act two came before I knew it. I was to enter at the end of the act and sing a few short lines, refusing Faust's offer to escort me home. My cue came, and I shyly walked on stage, careful not to look into the audience. I went about the motions, moving as I was suppose to, until my part came. I sang my brief response, knowing every note was perfect. I heard a small amount of applause once I was offstage, and it gave me confidence.

Act three began, and I waited as Faust and Mephistopheles brought their gifts to Marguerite to her home. I entered and sat by my spinning wheel to sing about a King, knowing that Marguerite was trying desperately not to think about the man from the market place. I continued in her little song, thinking about how often I turned to music to forget confusing things too.

Once she spotted her jewels, all knew the song I was leading into. I began to put on the earrings and crown, holding up a mirror as I began the song that had won me the position as understudy.

I sang joyfully, remembering how it feels to suddenly feel beautiful, and knowing Marguerite was thinking about only herself for the first time in her short, unselfish life.

Marguerite danced with me on stage as I sang the thoughts she had while thinking of Faust. My Angel was there with us, joining in our dance, and with my two greatest friends, I sang with all of the joy the two of them had brought into my life.

I came to the end of the song naturally, and all of a sudden, there was a booming sound. I caught myself before I turned to look at the sound, realizing that it was applause. I swallowed, trying to think of when an entire audience had ever interrupted a performance to applaud with such enthusiasm, and I could not think of another time when they had.

The orchestra waited, but as the applause continued, they eventually had no choice but to continue through it. We had to sing through applause for a few moments, but eventually we captured their full attention again.

Faust and I sang to one another, and although I felt no attachment to him personally, I knew Marguerite loved this selfish man. He swept me off my feet and carried me offstage to conclude act three.

We had a little time in between three and four, and while everyone rushed to tell me how wonderfully I was doing, how beautiful I sounded. As happy as I was in my performance thus far, I found myself anxious to be on stage, not wanting to deal with all of my cast members behind the curtain. I found them even less truthful then I did while they pretending to be completely different people.

Act four began the torment of Marguerite, with Mephistopheles mocking her with threats of hell and damnation. Even while on my knees, begging for my salvation, I still preferred it to standing backstage with the rest of my curious followers.

I felt like crying for Marguerite as I watched her brother die by her lover's hand. How understandable it was for her to loose her grip on reality, to let go so easily. After my father died, I remember how the entire world felt like water, slipping through my fingers, and without my Mamma Valerius, I would have drowned like poor Marguerite did.

The final act came. I was in a simple white gown, asleep in the hay, waiting to be lead to the gallows to my death. I knew her weariness in life, her pain and loneliness. In her unstable view of reality, did she even know that she killed her child?

I sang to Faust as he begged me to leave with him, and Marguerite could only wonder about the past, for she knew that her life would never be filled with happiness again. In the finale, with my wig surrounding me, I sang for my Angel. Even though Marguerite begged for forgiveness, I could not conceal my love and joy as I sang for my Angel, raising my arms out to him, imagining what it would be like to embrace him and be carried up to Heaven. I sang with all of my love and devotion I had for him, and with all of the blessings he was sure to have given me, I sang through my soul.

As the last note lingered in the air, I was startled out of my concentration on my Angel by a monstrous roar. I took a step back in horror as an audience I had paid little attention to stood and shouted at me, beating their hands furiously together. I looked around, in confusion, scared at what caused such a commotion.

They were all looking at me, all with the same wild eyes, shouting and making so much damn noise. In my singing for my Angel, I felt my soul rising up out of my body, rising above the world, beyond the mortals that stood all around me. With the sudden, terrible roar of the audience, I felt like I was crashing back down to earth.

I was suddenly trapped on stage with an entire Opera House losing all composure in their frantic clapping. I stood staring, unsure of what to do.

Faust came back out to stand next to me, putting a hand on my arm. I turned to look at him, before turning back to look at the hundreds of people shouting my name. He put his hand on my back and pushed me forward, motioning with his other hand to take a bow. I hesitated before moving all the way downstage, and I was terrified because with every step I took closer to the audience, the louder they became. I came to the edge and gave a proper curtsy, which caused shouts and cheers to drown the Opera House. They began to throw things at the stage, flowers mostly, but when something sharp hit my arm, I cried out in surprise and backed away quickly. Faust caught me from going backstage, holding me in place to watch the crowd of people begin to charge the stage.

The orchestra protected me from the crowd, but they still moved closer and closer to the stage. In my head, I saw flashes of dark hallways and laughing chorus girls, and I became out of breath as if I had been running.

"Please, I need to leave." I said fearfully.

"You would offend every person in this room! No, I won't let you ruin what a triumph you gave the company tonight." He sounded like he was trying to help, but all I wanted to do was run.

The closer they got to the stage, and the more he held me in place, the louder the laugher in my head became, until I could barely hear the applause. I began to cry out of fear and desperation, and I wanted to beg them all to just stop and leave me alone.

I looked around for a familiar face, for something reassuring, eventually looking up in the boxes for help. I saw judgment and coldness, with no empathy or sympathy for me…Save one face. One man, in the entire Opera House, looked upon me with concern. Sweet Raoul, my dear friend, was holding on the rail of his box, looking at me with horror, even reaching out a hand to me in a futile attempt to help me.

I looked at him in gratitude, still crying, wishing I could thank him for being such a kind friend. But before I could do anything, I felt my knees getting weak. My vision became blurry, and slowly, everything went black, and I fell into the darkness with screams and laughter all around me.


	25. Humiliation

The blackness was gentle and quiet, but it was weak against the demanding chaos that was growing all around the Opera House. Soon, I heard people shouting my name, yet I had no desire to answer the calls.

I felt like I was floating through noise for a very long time, until the noise softened, as if being pushed back. I felt steady and warm, feeling my own weight again. Softer voices began calling my name while cool things were placed on my forehead.

"Perhaps she got overexcited." A woman said. I did not recognize her voice, even though I felt I should have.

"Is she alright, Doctor? She looks so pale…" I did recognize this voice, although I could not understand why he was here.

I began to open my eyes, with great effort, shying away from the light. Blinking many times, I focused on four people all standing around me, looking upon me with concern. Madame Giry and Louise were both there, with an older man sitting very close to me. Raoul was kneeling next to my little couch, looking up at me, holding one of my hands in both of his.

But what was he doing here? I understood why Madame Giry and Louise were with me (the old man was dressed like a doctor), but why was Raoul in my dressing room?

He was holding my hand so intently, looking at me with such distress that it made me feel uncomfortable.

"Who…" I found my mind was too clouded to form sentences yet, and I could not focus my question into words. I closed my eyes and swallowed, trying to collect my thoughts and remember what had happened. All I was trying to ask was who let Raoul into my dressing room, but Raoul did not let me clarity.

"Don't you remember me, Little Lotte? I am the little boy that rescued your scarf from the sea." His voice was soft, and it seemed that he was trying to sound soothing, but his words were so absurd and silly that I could not take him seriously. Perhaps he thought that he was being romantic, but he had a limited imagination if he thought this sounded like anything other than ridiculous.

I turned to look at the other women. Louise was looking away to hide her amusement, and Madame Giry, never one to turn away from anything, was biting her lip to hold the smile back. The sight of their amusement made me unable to contain mine, and I began to giggle at his silly reply.

He stood up immediately, his noble upbringing reacting in horror at being laughed at. The privileged are raised to fear humiliation more than sickness or death, and although Raoul was born with a heart that never adopted the other harsh qualities of the wealthy titles, his face turned red with hatred and fear when he was confronted with humiliation, his mortal enemy.

"Mademoiselle, I am happy to see you recovered, but I want to know if I may speak with you in private." He was still on edge from my laughter, but he was sincere in his request.

Louise gasped at his forwardness, despite her attempts to remain invisible in the room, and in another gesture of loyalty for her new mistress, she raised her chin and directed a brave suggestion to him.

"Perhaps you should wait until my mistress is well to ask her such a forward request."

The doctor coughed in embarrassment, and Madame Giry looked away. Raoul looked angry, but he was silent. I remembered from our childhood that Raoul, having no experience with lashing out in anger, froze when he did not know how to react. Worried he would tell his brother about this incident, I quickly spoke to defend my new maid.

"Louise, thank you. Raoul, this is my new maid, Louise. Louise, this is the Vicomte de Chaney. Forgive her Raoul, she is a little protective of me…" My head felt dizzy, but I reached over to place my hand on Louise's on top of the couch, for her face had grown a bit pale when she learned of Raoul's proper title.

Louise curtsied quickly, obviously horrified at speaking to a man of his station with such boldness, but her bravery held her standing straight, and she did not apologize. I admired her for that.

In understanding and approval, Raoul nodded and forgave the maid. His gentle nature helped him forgive her completely, and he seemed to approve once he understood that her motives were to protect me. He could understand wanting to protect me at all costs.

"Very nice to meet you. But Christine…" He wanted to ask to speak to me again.

I suddenly remembered everything. The triumph of my singing, along with my Angel's intense dislike of Raoul, made me realize how important it was to get everyone out of the room.

I had just accomplished everything my Angel had trained me to do. He must be proud, and he must have things to say to me. Perhaps he would finally reveal himself to me in reward for the glory I had given him.

"Please, Monsieur, maybe when I am feeling better. But I'd like to be alone now."

He nodded, but did not leave. No one made any move to leave.

I sat up, determination to speak with my Angel giving me strength.

"Please, I want to be alone now. I mean, to rest awhile, before returning to my Mamma Valerius. She is not well…"

Madame Giry narrowed her eyes at me for a moment, but I looked away. She moved toward the door, gesturing for the doctor and Louise to follow her out the room. They obeyed, as few could resist the orders of Madame Giry, but Raoul did not move.

Madame Giry let Louise and the doctor leave the room first, but she waited behind for the Vicomte to follow. As the Doctor and Louise left, I could hear shouting and movement from hind the room. Obviously, I had fans waiting outside my dressing room, but I could not recognize any of the voices.

Raoul looked at Madame Giry, realizing that she would not leave until he did. He sighed, giving in, and moved toward the sofa to address me once more. He took my hand and kissed it. Without realizing why, and without any intention to, my heart began to race, and I could feel my cheeks burning at his lips touching my skin.

"I hope you feel better, Christine. You were…magnificent tonight. I look forward to seeing you again."

I nodded, and he sorrowfully left the room.

Madame Giry nodded gravely at me, before leaving the room as well.

I took a moment to take a deep breath to steady my mind. I stood, feeling my strength again, but I could tell I was drained from the performance. I waited for several moments, and the longer I waited, the more I was bothered by the silence. I waited a few moments longer, thinking my Angel was waiting to make sure I was alone, which was an unsure thing with so many people at my door. But Angel said nothing, and I was growing anxious. Didn't he want to congratulate me? Didn't I deserve at least a little praise for what I had done?

"Angel? Are you there?" I asked softly.

"I am." The short reply was confusingly out of place. Wasn't he proud? I was almost speechless.

"Didn't you se my performance?" I asked, not knowing what to expect from his response.

"I certainly indeed." This left me baffled at the sharp coldness of his tone. It only took a few words from him to make me feel impossibly small.

"I did it, Angel." I said softly. My hands were beginning to feel cold.

"You did indeed, but you broke a promise to me."

I was shocked into silence, unable to even shake my head in protest.

"You did not sing for me tonight, did you?" He sounded quietly furious, but I could not believe he would ever say such a thing.

"Angel, I did…" I said, before I was overcome by sobbing. I had to sit down on my sofa to steady myself.

"I saw the way the boy looked at you…and how you looked back at him! You love him!" He started to sound desperate, but I was sobbing too hard to even question why an Angel sounded so desperate.

I shook my head through my tears.

"I care about him. We were children together-" He cut me off, before I could tell him that I was not in love with the Vicomte.

"You must love me! You must love only me, Christine!"

Anger replaced sorrow, and without thinking, my hands flew away from my face.

"How can you say that, when I sing for only you?" I was furious at my own Angel, and I was too angry to think about the consequences of being angry at an Angel.

I stood to turn my back to my mirror, crossing my arms in front of me. I tried to calm myself, but in my mind's eye, I saw myself pouting like a child, which only intensified my fury.

There was a pause, and the silence seemed to have a questioning air of who would break it first. I cried angry tears now, and I hated how I couldn't control my sobs. I would love to be furious without having to cry during it.

"Are you very tired?" He asked in a softer tone. I didn't know Angels to be apologetic, but he seemed as if he was attempting to soothe me.

"Oh yes," I said in a sharp reply, turning only my head towards the mirror, but making no move to turn around. "I gave you my soul tonight, and now I am dead!"

I turned my head away from the mirror again, angry at both him and myself. I hated how I sounded like a spoiled child, but he had honestly hurt me to my core. I had just done all that I had ever dreamed of, all that I had ever thought I could never accomplish. In one night, I had given my Angel all that he had ever asked of me, and he had responded with anger and accusations.

"Your soul is a beautiful thing, child," He waited, hoping I would calm and at least turn around, but continued when I did not, "and I thank you. No emperor had ever received so fair a gift." He waited again, but I was still not mollified. "The Angels wept tonight."

I took a deep breath, swallowing back my anger enough to turn around to at least face my mirror. My arms were still crossed, and I could see my tearstained face and red eyes in the mirror. I looked rather pitiful on a night that should have been the best night of my life.

"I sang for you…I was singing for Marguerite for most of the Opera, but at the very end, I sang for you. I tried to reach you with my voice, all the way to heaven…I thought you would hear me singing for only you." I said all of this in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Christine…My little one, you must know how proud I am of you. You were…inspiring. No mortal had ever brought Heaven to earth as you had. Your voice, Christine, it brought new life to this world, to your Angel."

I swallowed and lowered my head, not angry any longer, but still feeling intensely wounded.

"Christine, you cannot, even for a moment, give into worldly temptations. I cannot bare to loose you, especially now after you sang for me. I am forever connected to your voice, and to be without it…would be unbearable."

"I am not tempted by Raoul, Angel!" I said, blushing furiously at the sudden embarrassing thought of Raoul's lips touching my hand.

"Very well." He said, not sounding convinced at all, "But I have warned you. You shall never hear my voice again if you choose to love him."

I sat again, biting my lip in anger. I had no intention of loving him, and I did not want to be lectured on the night of my glory. However, I remembered how rash I had been when I had went out the last time I was angry with my Angel, and I resolved to stay focused and rational.

"Where are you planning to go now?" He asked. Perhaps he remembered that night at the same time I did.

"To my Mamma Valerius. She is still unwell…"

"Very well. Tell her everything, but you must swear to stay at her home. Do not leave or go anywhere else, even on an errand for your Mamma Valerius. You will rest your voice and return in two days." His voice had taken on a strict business tone that made me want to hide in my room, even from my Angel.

"But the dinner…It's being held in my honor."

"It is being held in honor of the new managers. They are stealing away your glory as their own, and I forbid you to attend. I will not allow you to be used for their benefit. You will not be in attendance, for they do not deserve your presence."

I did not dare argue with him when he spoke like that. I did not speak to him after that. Instead, I began to fiddle with my costume, changing behind my screen into a simple gown. I put on my fur coat and a veiled hat, hoping to go unnoticed through the Opera House while I walked to my room.

I gathered my things, but before reaching my door, I heard his voice suddenly next to my ear.

"Never doubt my love for you, my darling. I am only trying to protect you from them. You remember how they turned on you before…Now that they know what you can offer, they would take everything you have and then leave you empty and broken. You must trust that I only want to protect you…and your soul."

I nodded, but did not answer him, although my face softened with his words. I did remember how untrustworthy I had learned them all to be, and his words made sense. I went out my door, locking it behind me, and I walked swiftly through the hallways towards the door.

I took as many indirect ways as possible, but when I had to walk through crowded hallways, I found that I did not need to avoid people. Everyone expected me to walk out in a grand ball gown, announced by the managers, walking down a grand staircase or making some other kind of ridiculous entrance. It is what Carlotta did every performance.

I was able to make it out of the doors unnoticed. I took a carriage to Mamma Valerius's home, told her of my great triumph, and went to bed almost immediately after that.

And I missed the night that the people of the Opera House dined with a ghostly man with a fake nose.


	26. Letters

I'm sorry for the delay. I just got back from a three week trip out of the country, and then I had a serious computer virus issue. I will be much more active from now on.

All my love,

Adela

* * *

I spent a quiet morning with my Mamma Valerius, telling her all about my debut in the performance. She was thrilled with my success, and although she could still not move from her bed, my triumph had given her strength that brought the light back to her eyes and the color back in her cheeks.

"Thank our dearest Lord for your Angel of Music. He has been so good to you, Christine."

I flinched at the mention of my Angel, and my good Mamma questioned me about it. I told her about fainting and waking up with Raoul in my dressing room. My Mamma was always fond of Raoul, so she did not seem worried or even surprised that he had followed me to my dressing room. She listened carefully when I told her of my Angel's reaction to Raoul and how angry he became because of my childhood friend.

"Of course he was, dear child!" She said. She seemed sure and clear in her understanding of the situation, but I was hesitant to really believe anything she might say. Although she had been seemingly coherent the last few days, she did have periods where she spoke absolute gibberish and called out to her poor late husband. Her mind was slipping away, and it was hard to tell whether or not she really understood the situation.

"He is jealous, of course. Christine, you know so little of the world. Raoul, I daresay, fancies you, and your Angel worries that your handsome beau will take you away from him."

"Do Angels get jealous, Mamma? It seems against their nature…" I asked hesitantly.

"Of course they do, child. Your Angel is obviously attached to you. He is _your_ Angel, after all. He is only trying to keep your soul for God. You should obey him, Christine, for your own good. Look what he has done for you! And now you will be taken care of for the rest of your life! People will always wish to hear you sing now, and you will never be without an occupation. Oh, Christine, your Angel has answered my prayers, and as you love me, you should obey him. If your Angel does not wish you to see Raoul, despite your own feelings, you should not see him any longer. It is for the best, I know it."

I nodded and trusted that she was clear in her judgment while telling me this.

Just as the afternoon set in, I was called away from my Mamma to receive two gentlemen in the small drawing room. The two managers greeted me as I entered the room, rushing at me, both talking at once. Andre took my hand to kiss it, while Richard shook my hand furiously.

"You've done it, my girl, you've done it! All of Paris is talking-"

"You were absolutely brilliant, Mademoiselle, just sublime-"

"-of your performance! Every single show has been sold out already! The ticket sales-"

"-and even the papers are talking about you and the Opera House! Every journalist wishes for an interview with both of us and you-"

"-are through the roof! I sincerely apologies for doubting you, and I promise you that we will never hesitate to consider you less than our new leading lady-"

"Gentlemen! Please, don't talk at the same time!" I shouted, my head spinning from the two of them constantly talking at the same time.

"Forgive us, Mademoiselle. We are so happy about the performance-"

"And your angelic singing-"

"-that we had to personally come to take you back to the Opera House."

"Back?" I asked, surprised. "Why am I going back so soon? I had planned to stay another night or two."

"Oh no, you must come back at once! There is so much to do!" Richard seemed oddly commanding, and the little man looked oddly nervous. I shook it off as excitement.

"But my Mamma Valerius-"

"-She will understand, my dear girl. You have commitments now at the Opera House, and I'm sure she would not want you to let the company down."

He was right, and I knew it was almost pointless to even ask my Mamma Valerius if she wanted me to stay. I said goodbye to her, explaining that I was needed at the Opera House, and although she seemed upset to let me go so soon, she seemed oddly at peace as I left.

The two men helped me into the carriage, giving orders that my things be delivered to the Opera House. I sat uncomfortably across from the two men as they explained everything that I should expect when I returned to the Opera House.

"You were not in attendance at dinner last night, Christine." Richard said.

"No, forgive me, I was not feeling well."

"Yes, most assumed that after a doctor was called for. But even in your absence, many fine ladies and gentlemen left invitations for you. Even the Duchess de Zurich requested that you sing at her party tomorrow night, to which I told her you'd be delighted to-"

"You should have asked me first!"

Both men looked at me in stunned silence.

"Perhaps I would say that I could not. You would have had to cancel on the Duchess had I been engaged elsewhere."

"Mademoiselle, you are part of a company. You do not act as an independent agent. You will sing where the company needs-"

"Richard, I believe you are being too harsh. Forgive him, dear Mademoiselle, he is a business man, and he is not used to dealing with young artists. Of course we will ask your permission next time."

I watched as both men exchanged glances, and I immediately understood what was going on. Andre patronized Carlotta in the same manner, and it was clear that he had learned to be careful with leading stage ladies. He would not want me, a popular and famous singer over night, to take my talent to another Opera House. I nodded, accepting his apology, but saying nothing more. I wanted to give them the impression that I could indeed take my talent elsewhere, even if I knew that my Angel would not want me to leave Paris.

Remembering my Angel, I recalled what he told me about the managers taking advantage of me. I was thankful that I had trusted him.

The managers then explained that I was to work all day responding to letters and notes from the Patrons and the other guests of title. When we arrived at the Opera House, we were greeted by many people that instantly surrounded our carriage, all screaming my name. The managers encouraged me to sign papers and briefly talk to the people that tried to hand me flowers, which I did as politely as possible. After several moments of signing papers, the managers finally escorted me into the building, leading me to straight to my dressing room.

I was to work all day on responding to letters and notes from the Patrons and the other guests of title. I found many impressive gifts from complete strangers, most from men, but a few from some women admirers. Jewelry was the main gift among them, but I was also given some impressive furs and perfumes from the wealthier of the Patrons. Louise was soon sent to me to help putting the gifts away, and I found her to be a great help in organizing the unwanted gifts. She quickly showed experience in answering the letters in a cordial, yet respectfully distant tone. She organized the furs in my closet, stored the jewelry safely away, and arraigned my new perfumes fashionably on my vanity. I did not care for any of the things I was sent, but Louise assured me that I would not be expected to wear anything I was sent. She warned me to always be dressed nicely, as people would be watching me more closely than before for my fashion choices, but I never needed to wear any of my gifts unless I were to attend a party hosted by my gift's sender. I had no intention of doing so, but I followed her advice and kept everything I was given.

The Baron Hale, a man that I had never met, sent me an intensely forward letter of admiration and love attached to a small box. When I opened the box, I found a very small dog, a breed of the ladies of nobility. The letter explained that the Papillion breed, although not the favorite of most ladies of title, was a perfect match for "lady as lovely and innocent as a butterfly." I had no idea what to do with the little creature, even though it quickly warmed my heart with its little tan ears and fluffy white fur. It was a small, dainty little dog that shivered with fear from within the box she was stuffed in, but licked my cheek in delight when I held the little thing to my breasts and stroked her.

I immediately loved her, but I had no idea what to do with her. She could not stay in the Opera House, and I had no idea how to take care of a dog. I didn't like how Carlotta would drag little dogs around, as if the poor creatures were accessories, so I did not see how I was to keep the dog. But Louise proved useful again, and she suggested that I send the little dog to my Mamma Valerius, which I did happily. Louise even suggested that I call the dog "Lulu", a simple but adorable name that my Mamma Valerius would find precious. I wrote a note to my Mamma, explaining that I hoped the creature would keep her company while I was away, and I asked Louise to personally deliver the dog, having no heart to put her back in the tiny box that Lulu came in.

With Louise delivering my letter with the dog in the manager's carriage (which I was given leave to use at my will), I left my dressing room in fear of being sought after by the rest of the company. I hurried to my room, finding the Opera House wonderfully empty in the aftermath of our great triumph. When I entered my room, the first thing I noticed was a little bundle of letters on my desk. I assumed that the letters were from people who knew me well enough to have their letters sent directly to my room.

There were several from Raoul, but I put them aside for the moment, wishing to see the others before I would commit myself to his words. Madame Giry had sent me a letter, as well as a Count that I knew to have great wealth and influence, or at least enough to get a letter sent directly to my bedroom. I set both letters aside as well. There were a few letters from my tailor, my hat maker, and even my bookseller, all telling me briefly how much they've appreciated my business over the years, and they hoped that they could continue to count on my business. I did not bother to even plan a response to these letters.

The last letter made my heart sink. My fingers grew cold as the letter shook in my trembling hands. I broke the death head's seal as my breathing quickened, and I pulled out a letter with terrifying handwriting in what looked like blood ink.

**To my divine and enchanting Mademoiselle, **

**I cannot express the rapture and elation that you brought to me last night with your performance. Your charm and genius brought life to my diseased Opera House, and I'm looking forward to the many years you will grace my stage. I happily toast to our continued relationship in the name of music and beauty, both of whom are your servants, as I shall ever remain. **

**Your dearest and most faithful servant,**

**O.G.**

The letter gave me chills, and I quickly put the letter back in the envelope, not sure what I was supposed to do with it. Sitting down at my desk, I decided to get through the other letters before I did anything else.

I opened the letter from the powerful Count, thinking it would not be as bad as the Phantom's letter. Only after a paragraph, I realized that I was wrong, and as I continued to read, I felt my cheeks burn and my hand covered my mouth in horror.

"What does it say?" My Angel's voice said, but I wasn't surprised by his sudden presence. In fact, I was happy that we were beginning a conversation that had nothing to do with what we argued about the night before.

"He is requesting that I join him…tonight at his villa."

"For what?" My Angel didn't sound like he was really wondering about the contents said.

"To…have a relationship with…" I read a little farther before closing the letter and crumbling it up. "Oh, it gets very graphic, Angel. How do I answer such a disgusting letter?"

"I will help you. If you get any more of that nature, even in person, direct them to Louise. She is experienced in dealing with a famous lady's admirers. But he will not bother you further."

"Yes, Angel." I did not question my Angel, even though I was curious to know how he knew of Louise. But Angels knew things that mortals did not, so I advised myself to have faith in his divine superiority, as my Mamma Valerius told me to do.

"What other letters do you have?"

"I received one from…" I did not utter the Opera Ghost's name, but I pulled out the letter instead. I held it up in the air, knowing my Angel would know who the letter was from.

"And what did it say?"

"He is happy with my performance, basically. I was thinking of showing it to the managers."

"Why?"

"They seem to think that the Opera Ghost is interested in me. They questioned me about him the last time I was called to their office." I thought about the letter and my costume, and it became clear to why they would connect me to the strange demands.

"Angel, why would the Opera Ghost send letters on my behalf? He has sent letters and even a costume to the managers, all for my benefit."

"Did you like your costume?"

"Yes, of course. It was beautiful, the kind of costume I had always pictured for my role. But it was so exact to my size-"

"-And you were happy with your role? You were happy to sing on stage in the leading role?"

"Of course, Angel."

"Then do not think about the favors of a ghost. He cares for his Opera House, and he clearly saw you as a valuable asset to his theatre's stage. You are under my protection, after all."

"…Yes, Angel. I trust you."

"You are very agreeable today." He observed. His tone suggested suspicion, although it was easily lost in his beautiful voice.

"I have come to realize that what you told me last night is true. You are only looking out for my well being."

"Yes, I am…What other letters do you have?"

I told him about the others, but he was only interested in the letters from Raoul. I would have thrown them away without reading them, but my Angel would not allow it.

"Why is that boy writing you letters?"

"I don't know. I haven't read them yet. I suppose to inquire about my health-"

"I think not. He is writing to ask to speak to you privately, which I forbid."

I clenched my teeth together, but again volunteered to throw away the letters.

"No. It would please me if you would read them aloud."

I hesitated. I did not want to read Raoul's letters to my Angel, but I dared not refuse. But hesitation proved enough for my Angel's anger.

"If this boy truly means nothing to you, then prove it. Share these letters with your Angel."

Raoul meant something to me. Perhaps I wasn't in love with him, but Raoul had been nothing but a kind friend to me ever since childhood. He deserved my privacy, but remembering the urging of my Mamma Valerius, I could not refuse my Angel.

The first letter was formal and polite, hoping my health had improved. The second repeated his hope that my health had improved, but it urgently begged for me to grant him a private audience. The third letter, to my horror, was a desperate call for me to remember the childhood we shared. He bravely even called me "Little Lotte", and said that he would look for me at the Duchess de Zurich's party tomorrow night.

My Angel was furious. I told him about the manager's acceptance on my behalf, but it did little to calm him.

"You cannot let them do your business! You must attend that party now, but I warn you to be cold and distant to that boy."

I protested, but knew it was pointless. Refusing a promised performance to the Duchess was career and social suicide, and the papers would never let me live passed it.

"The managers promised never to do it again…"

"It'll be their deaths if they do."

I was too frightened by his tone to reply. I threw the letters away, resolving to put them out of my mind, but two letters remained. The open letter from the Opera Ghost, which I could not bring myself to throw away, and the unread letter from Madame Giry. I moved the letter from the Phantom aside, trembling as I held it, and opened the other letter.

In short, it told me that the body of Joseph Buquet had been found in the lower levels of the Opera House.

I gasped and reread the letter to assure myself that I was not making it all up.

"What is it?"

"Joseph Buquet was found dead last night."

"Who sent you that letter?"

"Madame Giry, Angel. I believe she was trying to spare me the surprise had I heard of this in public…" I was quiet for a few moments after, the shock of it all setting in.

"He hanged himself, Christine. He did the only decent thing he has ever done in his life, and rid the world of his own filth. You should feel happy with this news."

"Happy?" I said in disbelief. "I could never be happy for the death of a human being."

"Relief, then."

"No, Angel! I feel only horror and pity…I would have preferred that he turn to the Lord for redemption…"

"A man like that cannot be redeemed."

"Everyone can be redeemed, Angel." I protested meekly. How can an Angel say something like that? Wasn't it in the heavenly nature of Angels to reform people? To encourage all humans to turn towards the Lord's ever forgiving grace?

There was no reply from my Angel, and in the silence, I read the note over and over again.

"It happened after my performance…Do you think he was afraid that I would demand the managers to act against him? In my success, do you think he feared me?"

"You will find no claim to guilt over his death, Christine. He acted on his own, with only selfishness in his heart. If you are not happy over this, then do you mourn him?"

I couldn't answer because I found I wasn't really sad over the loss. My Angel knew this, of course.

"Then do not think of it again. Leave his death and his soul to eternity now."

"Yes, Angel."

I threw away Madame Giry's letter, although it was harder to dismiss it from my mind.

"You must attend the Duchess de Zurich's party, I suppose. You must send a note to her with the music you are to sing."

"What music am I to-"

"I will tell you what to say in that letter. The night will not be as terrible as you think. You will briefly sing, answer a few questions perhaps, and it'll all be over. After this, you will not accept another invitation. I will not allow you to degrade yourself like this again."

"I didn't accept this invitation, Angel."

"Yes, I know. That will be dealt with as well."

"Very well."

"And you are not to speak to that boy. You are not to dance with him, or encourage his advances. You are to come back immediately tomorrow night."

I did not answer him again, for even with my promise to my Mamma Valerius and my devotion to my Angel, I was reaching the breaking point of my obedience. He noticed my silence and my aggravation.

"Are you planning to keep the letter from the Opera Ghost?"

I flinched, remembering the letter with blood red ink on my desk.

"Should I?"

"I do not think it would be wise to let one of his letters be found in the trash. You should put it in one of your drawers, one of the ones that locks."

I did as I was told, and with the Opera Ghost's letter fresh in my memory now, I shivered.

"You will return to this room tomorrow night after the party."

I thought of the letter that was now locked away in my drawers.

"Yes, Angel, I will return."


	27. Coaxing

I chose to wear my rose dress for the duchess's party, and my Angel approved. It was beautiful enough to be presented to a Duchess in, but in its elegant simplicity, I felt they would appreciate its humble design.

"They want only to amuse themselves," My Angel told me. "They will not care about right or correct information, only what will amuse. Take care what you say to them. But other than that, they will be charmed by your voice and your beauty. They will not be able to resist loving you…"

I swallowed back my unease, but nodded, and again swore to my Angel that I would return immediately after the party was over.

I arrived early to the estate, and I could hardly contain my amazement at such a fine place to live. It was unfashionable to show true amazement or surprise, for even when one is truly fascinated, it is the Parisian way to pretend indifference in any situation. But because I was early, I was able to adjust myself enough to the beauty of the large estate and the expensive furnishings and artworks to mask my wonder with polite familiarity. I would not pretend, as Carlotta did, that I saw such grand things every day, and such loveliness was almost boring to me, but I was able to admire the beautiful place with quiet appreciation, something that the Duchess herself commented on.

It was before the other guests had arrived, and I was formally introduced to the Duchess and her daughter. I believe she wished to inspect me, to make sure I would not embarrass her in front of her guests, but other than a judgmental hint in her eyes, I found her to be more agreeable than I had anticipated. She and her daughter questioned me about my background and upbringing, and were delighted to find that I was not only of legitimate birth (which was often uncommon with poor young actors and actresses), but I was of a respectable birth. I was not near the ranks of the people that formed the elite, but in the Duchess's mind, I was no lower than a respectable minister's wife or even that of an accomplished governess. Most people of high birth can only think of a person in relation to their possible stations in life.

"You have such a charming air, Mademoiselle Daae." She said to me. "Doesn't she, my heart?"

"Yes, Mamma. I find her to be quite a lovely young lady." The daughter replied. She spoke to me as if I were years younger when we couldn't have been more than three years apart. I might even be older than her. But I thanked them properly, and they confused my disbelief of the honesty of their compliments for modesty, and they were charmed even further.

By the time the other guests arrived, I was introduced to men and women far above my birth, but the Duchess introduced me as if I were a visiting princess. All of them were confused, and a few were even irritated that they had to show such regard to a lowly Opera singer, but none dared to voice any objections in the home of the Duchess. Even Raoul's brother bowed to me, as the Duchess bid, but Raoul kissed my hand in happiness to finally see me again. I blushed, trying to remain courteous, but did my best not to acknowledge his attentions.

Once everyone had arrived, the Duchess bid me to sing to everyone. I rose to stand near the piano, waiting for the pianist to begin. After my first song, everyone applauded so loudly, for so long, that my pianist could not begin the next song.

I sang a few more songs from well known and popular Operas, and eventually, I found that nearly everyone in the room looked to me with adoration and fascination, forgetting to even mask their true emotions with indifference. After I finished the last song, everyone begged me to sing some of the other songs again, but I looked to the Duchess for guidance, and she mercifully spoke on my behalf that I had sung enough that night.

She bid me to sit on her left, with her daughter on her right side, but this time there were no looks of aggravation or disapproval from any of the other guests. They all looked at me with unashamed and uncovered wonder, as if under an enchantment. I sat next to the Duchess, who was obviously thrilled that I had made such an impression at her party. She became very warm to me, even going as far as ordering some hot tea for me to drink, explaining that she did not wish for my "heavenly voice" to be strained.

Normally, or at least I expect, parties would divide up into smaller conversations, but everyone seemed fixated on me. They each took turns asking me questions about my childhood and my life, each expressing their own opinions about my upbringing.

"So you traveled then?" A lady asked me.

"Yes, all over the continent."

"Do you speak different languages, then?"

"Yes, I speak Swedish and French fluently. I've forgotten most of the other languages I learned on my travels, though."

"You have lovely French features though! And you speak so well, you could pass for any Parisian!" I did not like the silly fop that said this. He was wearing far too much powder and rouge, and he smelt of a sharp cologne that disagreed with me when he moved too close to me.

"I moved to Paris when I was very young. I became the ward of Professor and Madame Valerius when I was still a child."

"What did your father do as his trade?" A challenging woman, who was one of the few people who did not seem to like me, asked me this, though I fear that she only did so because her husband was looking at me with his mouth hanging off of his face.

I hesitated for just a moment, afraid to explain that although we were of a modest and comfortable beginnings, we were very poor traveling musicians for many years.

"Her father was an amazing violinist, the best in Europe, I would say." Raoul said, speaking in my defense.

"Yes, he was. He sold his land and his estate after my mother died. We traveled throughout Europe after that. My father was a great musician that lived for his music." I explained softly.

"Of course! That makes sense because of your great art. One would have to have such an extraordinary upbringing to sing as you do, M. Daae." The Duchess's daughter said. She smiled again at me, and I smiled back, quickly growing to really admire the gracious nature of the daughter.

"Of course, Grace. Well said, my darling. I believe that a man with such devotion to music was essential to creating the genius of M. Daae's divine voice." The Duchess gave her opinion, and the matter of my worthiness was settled. They did not only tolerate and comply with her opinion; they accepted it as fact, without bothering to think about it themselves.

"And now? M. Daae, are you alone in the world?" A man, who I was sure from his introduction had a pregnant wife at his home, asked me with open eagerness.

"No, monsieur, I am under my dear Madame Valerius's guardianship."

"And she could not be here to chaperone you?"

"She is, I'm afraid, too frail to travel anymore, Monsieur. But because I know I am among civilized and gracious people, the best in all of Paris, I feel secure in the hands of the Duchess de Zurich."

The Duchess straightened her back a little further, rising up to my statement, to prove that she was indeed my temporary guardian for the night. I have no idea where my attitude at adopted this manipulative side, but I found it quite easy to talk my way into the hearts of anyone I wished to. I was startled at the realization that I found it as easy as manipulating children. How have I been so ignorant of the power of such simple words?

"Dear Raoul," A beautiful woman with blonde curly hair and sharp, critical green eyes said, "I do believe you spoke of this little doll's father as if you had seen him before. Are you acquainted with M. Daae?"

I blushed, seeing the woman's cat eyes and venomous smile. She obviously fancied Raoul, but he was oblivious, and she was so greedy for him that she dared thought me a rival to her and wished to show me that I was indeed no threat to her. She was a beautiful woman indeed, and of his rank too, and I wondered with a slight pinch of a darker emotion that I could not really identify, if Raoul would ever really consider marrying such a harsh woman. From the look of Raoul's brother, I would gamble that this match would not be so unwelcomed.

"Yes, I am, Blanche. I met M. Daae, her father, and the wonderful Valerius' while on a vacation. We were children then, of course. Her kind father even gave me violin lessons, and I'm proud to say that although I cannot even begin to compare to the brilliance of M. Daae's father, I have kept up with my violin all of these years, and it remains one of my most enjoyable hobbies."

Raoul was still boyish in his compliments, but he was at least wise enough to politely omit the part about my father being paid for his lessons, something that might have embarrassed me. It was fine and noble to believe that my father taught music out of kindness, but it was far different to teach music out of trade. I blushed and looked down, something that Blanche quickly picked up on.

"Oh, Raoul, it is so charming to think of you as a lover of music."

"I must say that I owe my appreciation for music to M. Daae's father." He replied, ever honest and bright in his ways.

I smiled politely, but I could not believe that they would consider a man that merely attends Operas and perhaps plays a few accomplished tunes on a violin a "lover of music". Raoul might enjoy playing the correct notes on a violin, but he had no passion for the music itself, no desire to create new music as my father frequently did. The music never spoke to Raoul, and it showed how little the other guests knew of music.

The time came for dinner, and I found myself sitting right next to Raoul. I wondered how in the world the Duchess was getting away by putting me right next to a Changy, but soon realized that the entire table was watching me interact with Raoul. Obviously they had all heard rumors of a love affair between the two of us, and now they were watching to see if they could pick up on any hint of an attachment between us. I understood my Angel's advise to be cold to Raoul, and I worried the little that Raoul said was already created gossip.

I was cold and dismissive towards Raoul, never quite looking at him although he tried to catch my eye constantly. He would ask about my health, my Mamma Valerius's health, and my plans for the future. He asked if I would be attending another party in the coming week, and I replied that I was not, something which the Duchess found curious.

"Why will you not be attending, M. Daae? I was looking forward to seeing you perform again."

Luckily, I had a valid excuse ready for this, something that I didn't even have to lie about.

"Next week is the anniversary of my father's death. Every year, I go to Perros to fulfill my duties and lay flowers on his grave, and although I regret missing a party with such fine company, I'm afraid I am bound by dedication."

Everyone approved and admired me for this answer. The Duchess expressed concern about how I was planning to travel alone, but I assured her that I would be taken care of, and I was staying at a very reputable inn.

The night was over soon, but they all left with promises to contact me for my own visit to their estates. They all parted with me graciously, but Raoul paused for a moment to kiss my hand, looking more solemn than before. Guilt crept into my soul, for I knew that he didn't understand why I had been so unresponsive to my old friend, and he was blind to the rumors going around about us.

"Goodnight, M. Daae. I hope to see you soon." I couldn't say anything in reply, for the sound of his disappointed voice just about crushed me. I hated hurting him, and I knew he was hurting from my treatment. I wish I could explain.

The Duchess and her daughter told me that they wished to correspond with me from now on, requesting letters from me while I traveled to Perros. I promised to begin corresponding with them, and although I believed my Angel about gossip, rumors, and the fickleness of people, I did find myself liking the kind royal couple. I found that they both spoke to me as if they had just found a new pet, but at the moment, I was too grateful that the night had gone smoothly to truly care about this detail.

I returned immediately to the Opera House, walking through the cold, dark halls to my small room. I was in my room only a moment before my Angel was with me. I was tired and heavy with guilt, but my Angel wanted to know more about my night. I told him everything, answering all of his questions honestly, having no reason to withhold anything from him. He gave me permission to correspond with the Duchess and her daughter, even though I had never asked him for permission to do so.

He congratulated me on my night, but my mind was heavy with guilt over my unfair treatment of Raoul. He asked me what was wrong, but I hesitated to tell him, instead announcing my plans to go visit the grave of my father in Perros for the next few days.

"Did I give you permission to leave the Opera House?"

"Angel, I have a commitment to my father…"

"And your commitment to your Angel of Music?"

I was silent. Was he honestly expecting me to choose between my Angel and my father? I sat down, finally taking my gloves, hat, and jewelry off, trying to stall answering him until I could think of a suitable reply. I took off my shoes and loosened my sleeves, trying to get as comfortable as possible, for I could tell when my Angel was planning to keep me awake for a long time. When I began loosening my hair, my Angel broke the silence.

"Of course, you must fulfill your commitment to your father. You will go to Perros for a few days, under your protective Angel's watch."

"Thank you, Angel." I couldn't help think of Raoul. I hated being cold to a friend, even under my Angel's orders.

"There is something else on your mind."

"No, Angel."

"I'd rather hear what is on your mind, no matter how displeased you think it will make me, than for you to lie to your Angel." His tone took on a sharp edge to it, something that I found I couldn't sit comfortable while listening to it.

"Angel, please, it's nothing-"

"I have warned you once about lying to me. There will be no more warnings." His voice grew as sharp as broken glass, and it filled every inch of the room. I was quiet, choosing my words carefully.

"I was cold to Raoul, as you ordered…I feel I was too cold. He didn't deserve such harsh treatment from me. I do understand why you told me not to act too friendly to him in public, for we were being watched carefully for gossip-"

"I'm glad you finally understand that I have my reasons. You should trust me completely."

"I do, Angel, and I did what you told me to do. But he didn't deserve it-"

"People rarely get what they deserve, and that boy is no different. Leave it alone."

"I don't like being cruel, Angel." I said softly.

He was quiet for a long time, realizing that while I sympathizing with Raoul (something which he loathed), I was disturbed for having to act against the nature that he desired from the depths of his soul. He was forcing me to act in a way that I was not familiar with, act just like the people that he hated so much. He realized he was handling me all wrong, pushing me away instead of drawing me closer. Already there was a wedge between us, a gap that had not existed before, and he realized that he had driven it there by trying to force me closer. He needed to coax me to him, not force me by controlling me.

"What do you wish to do about it then?" He asked me in a gentler tone that gave me confidence to answer truthfully.

"To make amends." I answered, hoping my Angel would understand.

"Did you have a way in mind?" My silence told him that I did, although I did not wish to tell him out of fear. "Do not be afraid. Tell me honestly."

"I want to write to him, inviting him to meet me in Perros. He knew my father, and I think it would be suitable to make amends to our friendship while paying respects to my father." He was silent for a long time, but I could not speak again. I had used all of my courage to state my intentions, and I had none left to question his thoughts.

"If you wish to do this, then you have my blessing. Write to him and invite him to Perros. I shall be with you in Perros also, as your guardian. And if you are faithful to me, to your devoted Angel, I will reward you by playing _Lazarus_ by your father's grave on his personal violin. Will that please you?"

I was speechless, and I could not even begin to think how odd it was that my Angel was suddenly giving me permission to travel alone with Raoul, whom he obviously met disapproval. I was overcome by the most urgent and desperate longing at the thought of hearing my father's violin again. The idea that I would hear the real violin of my father was beyond exciting. My father had been buried with his violin, for I knew that I could never bear the violin played by anyone other than my father.

"Will it be my father playing for me? Will you bring his soul from heaven to play his violin?" I knew I must look foolishly childish and hopeful, but I couldn't contain myself.

There was hesitation in his tone, which I dismissed due to my lack of interest. I only cared for his answer.

"Yes, but he will not be able to speak to you, and you will not be able to see him. His soul is bound to heaven, and only through music will he be able to communicate to you, for music transcends all laws and bindings of Heaven and earth. Will this make you happy?"

"Yes, Angel, yes, I would be so happy!" I began weeping with both grief for the loss that I had never recovered from and the joy at the thought of hearing my father play for me again.

"I am glad then. All I ever want is for you to be happy, Christine…"

"Thank you, Angel. Thank you so much."

"Write your letter, Christine. Pack your bags. You must be on the first train to Perros tomorrow."

"When will I hear my father? When I go to the graveyard?"

"At the stroke of midnight, darling, in the graveyard. As long as you remain faithful to me."

"Of course, Angel. I always belong to you. I belong to no man or country or station, only to you!"

In my joy, in my eagerness to hear my father again, I gave my Angel promises of eternal devotion. He wanted to reassure himself that I was indeed devoted, but he had grown insecure while using threats and barking orders at me. But with a little coaxing, and offering something that truly spoke to my soul, I had reassured him that I was indeed devoted to my unseen Angel.

I wrote the note to Raoul quickly, another note to the managers and to the Inn that I would be staying in, and then packed a few things I would need for my stay. I went to bed with wonder, thinking about how my father would be visiting me the next day. There were few thoughts given to Raoul, my Mamma Valerius, or even my managers, who were dealing with their own problems with the Opera Ghost and their fussy and slighted Prima Donna.


	28. Voices

Just a quick note to everyone that has reviewed the last few chapters...You guys are fantastic! This chapter is dedicated to all of the inspirational reviewers!

All my love,

Adela

* * *

The train ride to Perros was rather boring, which was unfortunate because I was far too excited to tolerate the stuffy and quiet compartment. Fortunately, no one tried to share my compartment, for I had a strange unease in my heart that made me happy to be alone.

I arrived at the Setting Sun Inn earlier than I meant to. I gave my bags to them to put in my room, and because my Angel had ordered me to spend some time in the Church before I see Raoul, I made my way to the little Church just across from the graveyard that held my father's grave. My Angel had told me that he could not speak to me unless I was in a Church or in the graveyard, and I didn't understand, but agreed anyway.

The Church was quiet and deserted. I found a quiet corner in the Church and began my prayers, but before long, I heard my Angel's voice in my ear.

"Christine…Christine…"

"I'm here, Angel." I whispered in my prayers, my eyes squeezed shut in great excitement.

"My Christine…"

"Yes, Angel, I'm here!" I repeated with tenderness in my voice and in my heart.

"Are you visiting your father's grave tonight?"

"Of course, Angel! I'm eager to hear my father play again. Is he with me right now?"

"He is waiting in the graveyard, to play for you at midnight."

"Thank you, Angel, thank you so much!"

"But you must remain faithful to me."

"Of course, Angel! I only wish to make amends for my behavior."

"Your Angel is proud of you. Your desire for forgiveness shall be rewarded."

"Thank you, Angel." Joy filled me. I was finally pleasing my Angel.

"That boy will be arriving soon, darling. You should wait for him in the sitting room when you return."

"I will make amends quickly and then wait for midnight."

"I trust you, Christine."

After a few more words, he sent me back to the inn, to wait for Raoul in the setting sun.

I sat quietly in the cozy sitting room, attempting to read a book, joyous thoughts of my father floating around my head, when Raoul finally entered.

He held his hat in his hand, looking so bashful and boyishly eager that I couldn't help but smile. He relaxed a little, losing some of the tensions that he carried around his eyes when he first entered.

"Good morning, Raoul. I knew I'd find you here."

"How did you know that?"

"Someone told me, at the Church." I said without thinking.

"Who told you?"

"Why…my poor father, of course." I said, trying to make my tone sound light, as if joking. I wasn't really joking, but I didn't want to answer truthfully.

He paused, obviously not expecting me to answer him in such a way. He opened his mouth again to speak, but hesitated. I was patient.

"Did your father also tell you that I love you, Christine, and that I cannot live without you?"

I couldn't believe that he actually just confessed his love. I looked up to his eyes, and seeing that he appeared to be quite serious, I had no choice but to address this.

"You aren't serious, Raoul." I said, trying to laugh, hoping that he was indeed playing a trick on me. "You are joking with me."

"Don't laugh at me," he said blushing, "I am serious."

"Raoul…" I said, trying to find the words to protest. "This is not why I invited you to Perros. I wasn't hoping for you to confess…"

"…my love? Why would you invite me if you did not think I would profess my love?" He looked extremely put out.

"I was hoping to save our friendship. I wanted us to remember the friendship we shared as children." How could I have been so blind? How could I think that we could meet here as simply friends, after all of the attentions he paid me. "Maybe I was wrong to invite you…but with the university of my father's death, and he being so fond of you in life, I thought it would be a perfect time to renew the friendship we once shared."

"Christine, why have you been so cold to me? Why did you laugh at me when I came to your dressing room?"

Raoul looked taken back by his own aggressive tone, but I was too shocked to say anything. I couldn't think of what to say in reply to him, so I remained quiet. Even though I could tell he regretted his sudden forceful tone, he continued anyway.

"You are silent, but I do not need you to answer. I know why you laughed at me. There was someone else in the room, someone that knew you, and whom you did not want to know me."

"If there was anyone else in the room that knew me, it was you. I clearly asked you to leave me in peace, and you clearly disregarded me!" I replied sharply. I did not get up yet, but I was growing quite livid with him. How dare he eavesdrop on me, in my own dressing room!

"Yes, so you can be alone with the other in your room!"

"What are you saying, Monsieur? Who are you speaking of?" I finally stood up to face him. As angry as I was, I growing extremely curious as to what he was trying to imply.

"The other man in your room. The man whom you told that you sing for only him. You told him, 'Tonight, I gave you my soul, and now I am dead.' All these years, I thought you were singing for me…"

Speechless for a moment, I nearly tripped on my own feet as I grabbed his wrists in my hands, forcing myself to breath in when I found the air escaping me.

"You were listening behind the door? Raoul, you were listening to me speak?"

"Yes, because I love you so. I was worried about you, and I heard everything…" He seemed about to cry, as if he had been frightened that I might confirm that I indeed had a lover, but he couldn't even try to guess my true horror.

"Raoul…This is very important…What did you hear?"

He seemed uncomfortable at having to repeat the words of a man he believed to be his rival.

"He said to you, 'Christine, you must love me'…Or something to that effect."

I released Raoul and backed away from him. I felt dizzy and cold, just as I did right before I fainted on stage, and there was nothing I could do to keep the darkness from closing in on me. I thought I would loose to the darkness, but at the sight of Raoul reaching out to me, I was able to force it away, and my anger helped me back away from him.

"Go on! Tell me everything you heard!"

And he repeated our conversation, almost word for word, and I felt my entire being crumble from within me. I didn't know what to think or feel about this. I put my hand to my heart, trying to catch my breath. I can only imagine what I might look like to Raoul, with my eyes wide open in shock, focusing on nothing specific in the room. I felt my eyes filling with tears, and Raoul came closer to me, trying to comfort me, but I pushed him away.

"Christine…" He said, imploringly.

"Raoul!" I shouted, gesturing him to stay away. I moved away and left, rushing to my room to shut him out. I locked the door to my little room and collapsed into my bed, crying small pathetic tears into the pillow.

How could he have heard my Angel's voice? It was impossible, or at least I had thought it would have been. I had assumed that only I could hear my Angel's voice. Why did my Angel let Raoul hear his voice? Why didn't my Angel tell me that Raoul had heard an Angel's voice? Raoul did not know that he had heard an Angel's voice, and he even admitted that he believed he had heard another man's voice in my dressing room.

What a horrible thought! Didn't Raoul believe in my character enough to know that I wouldn't have men in my dressing room? Did my old, childhood friend, who had known my father personally, believe that I was keeping strange men in my dressing room? And if Raoul did think that I was keeping men in my room, why had he still pursued me?

I rolled over on my back, staring at the ceiling, letting my thoughts circle in my head. I only had questions to repeat over and over again to myself, and the more I thought about it, the darker my thoughts became.

Perhaps Raoul was hopeful that I was no longer a "good" girl, and I would abandon my current lover for him. He would not pursue me for a wife, because of his greater rank, so what was he pursuing me for? He could have no other interest in me than to make me a mistress.

But why did he look so regretful? I had always believed in the good and gentle nature of Raoul, and even as I thought about how logical it was for him to only think of me as a mistress, I still could not truly believe it.

And what of my Angel? I had been faithful, as he commanded, but was this a betrayal? Did my Angel betray me by allowing another to hear his voice? And what could my Angel possibly gain by allowing Raoul to think there was another man in the room? I tried to keep my faith in my Angel, to believe that there were heavenly reasons for me to stay obedient to my Angel without question, but I found it was too difficult to cast all of my doubts away.

I decided to go to the Church to consult with my Angel, to ask him why he allowed his voice to be heard by another. I refreshed myself, groomed my messy hair, and changed into a fresh, unwrinkled dress, before putting my cape on and leaving my room.

On my way to the Church, I saw a tall man standing on a hill, looking out to the sea, and even from behind, I knew it was Raoul. I paused, unsure if I should speak to him first or to my Angel, but seeing him look out to the sea reminded me of childhood memories, and I walked over to Raoul with a sigh. I remembered the stories we used to listen to as children, of fairies, goblins, trolls, and korrigans. I wondered if he remembered that even though I couldn't see out into the misty twilight very well as a child, I always claimed that I saw korrigans dancing around the trees. I knew he didn't believed me, but he never said so.

"Do you think the korrigans will be out tonight?" I asked him as I approached, hoping to keep the mood light. He turned around and looked startled, fidgeting a little as I walked closer. He moved to speak, but I put my hand up to stop him.

"Raoul…" I took a deep breath, hoping that my Angel would understand. I only wanted to do right by everyone. "I have decided to share a secret with you. It is a very, very serious secret, and I must have your word to keep it."

"Of course." He said, although he sounded like he did not want to know whatever I was about to tell him. I took another deep breath.

"Raoul, do you remember the tale of the Angel of Music?"

"Yes, of course. Your father told us the tale."

"Yes, he did. And just before my father died, he promised me that he would send me the Angel of Music, to protect me. Well, father is in Heaven now…and I have been visited by the Angel of Music!"

"Of course you have." He sounded far too casual about the shocking secret I had just confided in him. How could he accept it so quickly? I had expected him to at least question me, but he seemed so calm about it.

"Do you understand me, Raoul?"

"Of course. No one can sing like you can, Christine. No one on this earth could teach you to sing like that. It is obviously divine intervention." His eyes grew glassy as he stared at me, and his lips twitched a little, but I could not focus on anything other than my secret.

"But he does teach me! He teaches me every night in my room!"

"In your room?"

"Yes! And I'm the only person who has heard his voice…Except for one other!"

"Who?"

"You, Raoul! You heard him too, my friend."

"When did I hear the Angel of Music?" He seemed so confused, but didn't he understand?

"The other evening. When you listened behind my door," I made sure not to let any anger or contempt creep into my voice, "it was he who said 'You must love me'. But I thought I was the only person that could hear his voice, so you must understand my shock when you told me, this morning, that you could hear him too."

He was still for a moment before he began laughing at me. I stood, shocked, as he shook with laughter. I was still angry at him for spying on me behind my door, but I could not stand being laughed at like this. I had just told him my most intimate and personal secret!

"Why are you laughing at me? Do you think I would be talking to a _man_ inside my dressing room?"

"Well…" He said, unable to finish. He lost his laughter and took on an uneasy look, and I realized that he did indeed think that I was speaking, alone, to a strange man inside of my dressing room.

"Raoul…How can you think that? You were my childhood friend! You knew my father, Raoul, when so few people in this world did! How many friends of mine can claim they knew me as a child and also knew my dear father?" I looked him over, realizing that although I missed my dear little playfellow, I did not know this man. I did not know this man that paid attentions to me without any intentions for marriage, and I definitely did not know this man that pursued me even though he thought I entertained strange men in my dressing room.

"You have changed, old friend. How can you think that of me? I am honest, M. le Vicomte de Chagny, and I don't let men into my personal dressing room! If you had opened the door, you would have seen that there was no human with me to see!" My eyes began to water. How dare he force me to defend my honor to him?

"But I did! After you left, I opened the door, and I saw no one!"

"Well, you see then!" I said, horrified. He had spied inside my room too!

"Christine…I think someone is playing a trick on you."

I shouted my frustration at him in shock, and I ran away from him. He shouted at me to wait, to come back, but I could not stop running away from him. He didn't chase me, for which I was grateful. At the moment, I never wanted to see him again!

How could he think that I would let men into my dressing room? And how could he think that my Angel was a fake? He had heard the voice of the Angel of Music, and he rejected him! Did he think I was stupid? The idea that I was guilty for hurting such a snob as he was! I begged my father to help me understand how my dear little playmate had turned into such a terrible and rude young man. I swore to never speak to Raoul de Chagny ever again.

I rushed back to my room, forgetting about my intention to go to the Church to speak to my Angel of Music, and again locked myself in my room.

I did not take dinner, having no appetite at all. Instead, I wrote my feelings in a little journal that I had received among the many presents from my fans. Unlike all of the other gifts, this journal was given with no card or name. It was a beautiful emerald green covered book with only my name in gold letters across the front, and although it was rather plain, I found that it was the only gift that I wished to keep for myself.

I wrote all my thoughts into this journal, trying to straighten out my confusion by putting it all down on paper. I wrote for hours, recording every thought about Raoul, my Angel, the new treatment I was getting as a leading lady, my Mamma Valerius, and my poor father's death. I missed him so much, and as much as I wanted time to speed forward, the hours went by at a tortuously slow pace.

At half passed eleven, I closed my little journal, realizing that I had nearly filled half of it in my furious writing. I changed a third time for the day, dressing warmly for the cool air of the night, but taking little time to truly care for my appearance. I wanted to stop wasting time and hurry to get to the grave of my father, for my Angel to bring my father's music to me again.

I went downstairs and rang for the landlady, who came out of her room to meet me by the back door. I had informed her that I would be leaving at this time at night. As an experienced landlady, she knew better than to question me about why I was leaving so late. She wanted me not to loose the key to get back in, and I told her I would be careful.

The night was colder than I had expected, but it didn't slow my steps for a moment. I rushed through the streets, unafraid of the dangers for being alone so late at night, knowing that my Angel was guarding over me. I practically ran through the graveyard, rushing to the grave of my father, surprised to find a bush of beautiful roses growing over the grave. I had never planted roses on my father's grave, and no other grave had any roses growing over them. For a moment, I tried to think of who would plant roses on my father's grave, but it only took me a moment to accept that it must be a heavenly sign from my Angel, a sign that my father was coming for me.

I knelt in prayer, thinking of my father and my Angel, concentrating on keeping my mind and my heart open and ready to receive the divine grace of heaven.

I didn't need the clock to tell me that it was midnight. Softly, from all around me, I head the most beautiful music rising and rising, and I knew that my father had come, just as my Angel had promised. It was my father's violin for sure, for I would recognize the distinct strings of his violin anywhere. I raised my arms to the sky, with tears of joy beginning to fall down my cheeks, feeling my father all around me as the music grew louder and louder.

It was perfect. Even though my father remains the most talented violinist that I have ever heard in my entire life, the way he was playing tonight was beyond his skill when he was alive. It was flawless and passionate, and I cried in delight that my father's music had improved to the point of absolute perfect after death. This music touched me from deep within my soul, healing the emptiness that my father left me with after his death. We had said goodbye on his death bed, but even as he promised to send me the Angel of Music to protect me, at the time I didn't want an Angel. I wanted my father to stay with me forever, or at least take me with him. He had always taken me with him, all across the continent, so why didn't he take me with him when he went to Heaven?

But the music, in its perfection, was a gift from my father. We was still watching over me. I felt him around me, playing for his darling daughter, and my Angel had given me this gift. I was loved by my father, who played for me even after death, and my Angel, who trained my voice to raise higher and higher so my father can still hear me from Heaven.

Over the grave of my father, I wept with joy as every note transcended me higher and higher from earth, until the last note faded into the night as mysteriously as it suddenly appeared. I didn't move for a moment, allowing myself to finally, after all of these years, say goodbye to my father.

I eventually stood up and gave quiet thanks to my Angel, before walking away in a calm, glowing daze. The last song my father would ever play me, the last time I would ever hear his violin, had given me the closure that I had never gotten after his death. I walked with a clear mind and a light heart, unburdened by my loss, for now I knew for sure that my father was safe in Heaven, watching over me, and my Angel had given me the greatest gift any being, supernatural or mortal, could ever give me. All thoughts of Raoul hearing my Angel's voice, or how I told Raoul everything about my Angel of Music, were forgotten as I remembered my sweet father and my devoted Angel.

I slept a peaceful, dreamless sleep for a few hours before someone began pounding on my door. I put on my robe quickly to open the door to find the landlady begging me to come downstairs immediately. I rushed down with her to find an unconscious Raoul lying on the dinner table, with two men standing around him looking grim.

I shouted in shock and rushed to my friend, bending over his unconscious face.

"Is he…"

"He's alive, but barely. He needs to get warm immediately."

"Fetch a doctor, immediately! And add as much wood to the fire as possible!"

They all hesitated, even the landlady.

"Everything will be paid for, I promise, now please hurry!"

The landlady, embarrassed at her hesitation, ordered one man to fetch the doctor and the other to add more wood to the fire. She left to fetch blankets.

"Raoul, what happened?"

He couldn't answer, barely able to keep his eyes open to gaze up at me. My eyes filled with tears as I thought about how we had parted, and guilt settled over my soul again as I touched his deathly cold cheek.

"My poor friend…" I said softly.

The landlady brought returned, and I helped her remove his heavy, wet jacket and wrapped him in thick wool blankets. A giant fire was going only moments later, and the good woman brought some hot soup for Raoul to sip, and when the doctor finally arrived, Raoul had gained some of his color back. He was still paler than he should have been, and still quite delirious, but he had improved enough to give me confidence that he would recover.

"That face…the monster…a death's head…The eyes!" He said, growing almost frantic as his eyes rolled back and forth. He seemed to be going in and out of consciousness, but we could not get any facts about what happened from him.

"Where did you find him?" I asked the two men.

"The Church…near the graveyard." One of the men answered. Raoul's pockets were full, so it could not have been mugged.

"What was he doing there?" I asked. No one answered, but I knew it couldn't have been a coincidence that he was found in a place where I had been only hours before.

"He cannot leave for a few days." The doctor said. "But other than that, he will recover with no complications. Does he have family?"

"Yes. I will write to his brother to come immediately. Doctor, I must leave tomorrow. Can he be left unattended?"

"Absolutely, as long as Madame Eloise doesn't mind being responsible for him."

"I don't mind at all." She answered.

"Very well. I will write a letter to his brother and post it in the morning. My train doesn't leave until the afternoon."

The doctor eventually left, and the two men brought Raoul up to the room he had been staying in. I ordered a giant fire in his room, and I eventually went back to bed. I wrote the letter quickly, but I was unable to sleep. I had a few hours of peaceful bliss before Raoul had been found, and now my mind was troubled by the horrible sight of my poor friend looking up at me with helpless eyes. Maybe it was really a mistake to invite him to Perros with me…

"_Did your father also tell you that I love you, and I can't live without you?"_

I shook my head to try and forget his words. Even if he really loved me, it could never be. He was a Victome and my Angel was open with forbidding me to ever let him in my heart. But how could I not feel sorry for the poor man? He had come all the way to Perros to declare his love for me, and then he had ended up nearly frozen to death.

I tried to sleep, but I could not. I wanted to speak to my Angel about my feelings toward Raoul, or at least ask my Angel to help Raoul recover. I missed my Angel…I wanted to go home.


	29. Chandelier

I returned to the Opera House as soon as I could, but even though I took the earliest train possible, I arrived late in the afternoon. A crowd had already begun to form around the entrance, and I had to be escorted through the doors to keep the shouting people away from me.

I rushed through the Opera House, but even though most had already begun preparations for the performance, I was spotted by the group of young ballerinas that immediately and collectively gathered around me. Only one ballerina, with blonde hair and sad blue eyes, stayed behind and continued her stretches.

All at once, they were all trying to get my attention. Some asked questions and some were informing me of what had past the last few days, but I could not make anything of any of it. I tried to push past them, but before I could make it to my dressing room, I caught something one of the girls was trying to tell me.

"The Phantom sent another letter about you Christine!"

I stopped and turned towards the voice, holding my hand up to silence the others, and to my surprise, they immediately hushed to hear me speak.

"What are you talking about?"

The little brunette, perhaps one of the youngest girls in the company, beamed as she realized that I wished to hear her speak. She began talking to me, her eyes shinning with excitement, pushing forward to talk to me face to face.

"The managers received another letter, Mademoiselle!"

"What did it say…?"

"My friends call me Tottie!" She said, hoping I would call her that as well.

"Tottie…" I asked, almost smiling as the young girl's eyes lit up. "What did the letter say?"

"Well, my Mamma said that the managers-"

"Who is your mother?"

"Oh, she is the new concierge, the one that will replace Madame Giry during performances."

"Oh, I see."

"Anyway, the managers received a letter from the Opera Ghost that demanded that they give him back Box Five for his private use. The managers have already sold it out! He also wants his salary to be given to him again, monthly, and Madame Giry to resume her post as caretaker for box five-"

"She has quit?"

"No! They demanded that Madame Giry stop her business with him, and they threatened to fire her completely if she should serve the Phantom in Box Five ever again!"

"That is…surprising."

"But there's more! The letter also said that you will be Marguerite again because Carlotta will be ill!"

I was surprised, but only because I had not thought about Carlotta resuming the role of Marguerite at all. The part was mine, as I had made it, and I realized that even after all of my aggravation at people forgetting that I was an understudy, I had forgotten it myself.

"While I hope that Madame Carlotta will not suffer an illness tonight," I lied, "I am more than thrilled to resume my role as Marguerite." I wished she could have heard that.

"You will be brilliant, Mademoiselle!" And the girls burst into giggles and excited shouts to show their enthusiasm for me.

I escaped into my dressing room after a few moments, begging them to let me prepare for my role. But even though I wanted a moment with my Angel, to talk about what had happened in Perros, Louise stood in the middle of the room, preventing me from even calling out to my Angel. I was disappointed, and Louise noticed it.

"Something wrong, Mademoiselle?"

"No, nothing. I am just a little…flustered from the ballerinas out there."

"Oh, of course. Well, you missed a great excitement while you were gone with the 'Opera Ghost's' letter." Louise was new to the Opera House, and she still did not understand the fascination that we all lived under. "That and that white horse that went missing."

"What horse?"

"I believe the creature's name was Cesar."

"Oh no! Are you sure?" I had known the horse, vaguely. We had even been onstage together briefly, and I knew him to be a gentle and kind beast.

"That is what the stable master said. I have no idea who would steal a horse unaccustomed to hard labor though."

"He was a beautiful creature."

"I suppose so. But Mademoiselle, you should begin to dress for your role tonight."

"I suppose. Do you have the wig ready? I sent it to be cleaned."

"You won't need a wig for your role…" Louise seemed suddenly uneasy.

"Of course I will! I must have my wig for Marguerite, Louise."

"Mademoiselle," She began, but from my impatient look, she corrected herself, "Christine…I think you should read this."

She handed me a note from the managers. I read it, gasping in horror as I read the contents. In short, it said that I was not to play Marguerite, as Carlotta had made a miraculous recovery. But as my name was now spoken throughout Paris, I still could not miss a performance, and the managers thought it wise to have both of their famous divas on stage at the same time, to capitalize their success. So, I was to play the part of Siebel, the young boy, even though I had never rehearsed the part. I knew the managers were not foolish enough to ask me take over a part like this, even though they had not been in the Opera business very long, but I did not need to wonder what their real motives were.

I did believe that they wished to capitalize on their success by having two famous sopranos on stage, but they had another reason. If I should slip up, or should I trip, or if I enter at the wrong time, my fame would be diminished immediately. They must have been tired of being demanded by an unknown Phantom on my behalf, but I was sure that Carlotta also had something to do with this. She must have been furious when she heard of my success, and she had obviously begun torturing the managers for the crime of allowing her understudy to perform in her absence.

But what they had not known was my Angel had prepared me for almost every role in this Opera. He must have foreseen this, for even before we had finished the previous Opera, we were practicing _Faust_ in it's entirety, and I knew every line of every role. I was prepared to sing for the boy's role, and due to Carlotta's insisting that I only watch every rehearsal (instead of letting me rehearse with her) I knew all of the blocking for most of the other roles as well. I was completely ready for this part, even if the managers had not known this.

"Well, I will show them. They will learn not to underestimate me. Louise, please help me dress." I smiled at her, feeling myself rise to the challenge instead of cower before it. Hearing my father again, just one last time, had restored the strength and fearlessness that I had lost many years ago.

Louise smiled broadly back at me, proudly, and moved to behind my screen to help me dress. An hour passed, and I was completely dressed. My make up was finished quickly, for I was to play a young boy and not the maiden Marguerite, so heavy lipstick and rouge were unnecessary. My hair was pinned back to my head, which was complicated due to my hair's urgent will to be free, but soon a cap was over all of my hair, making me look like a young boy child.

"You are far too pretty to pass as a male." Louise said absentmindedly as she fixed the jacket around me. "But perhaps the audience in the very back will be unable to tell just how pretty you are." I giggled at her silliness.

My costume was uncomfortable for me to wear, even though it was easier to move in than any dress I could ever wear. I was put in loose fitting trousers and boots, with a loose shirt and jacket, and the whole outfit did make me look rather boyish. The jacket covered my chest and lean curves so much that it was hard to notice anything feminine about my figure. The pants were loose enough to avoid fitting to any embarrassing curves of my body, but I had never worn pants before in my entire life, and I found myself feeling indecent. I was not even wearing a corset! I was wearing special undergarments made specifically by women playing male parts in productions, but it merely smoothed everything out and did not emphasize any curves at all.

But I would not show my fear. I would not be afraid.

I walked, with my head high, to my position backstage and merely waited for the performance to begin. Few dared to speak to me now that Carlotta was backstage, and she made it clear that I was intruding on her performance. I swallowed back my hatred for her, realizing that I would have to endure an entire performance of Carlotta stripping Marguerite's role of all dignity and class. I prayed for my Angel's help.

It began quickly, and we were soon singing together onstage, but something was wrong. The audience reacted coldly to me, which I was unprepared for. It was only hours ago that I could not walk through a street without fans calling my name, but while singing as the young Siebel, the audience greeted me with nothing but stony silence.

I began to panic for a moment or two, wondering what I was doing wrong. Perhaps they were all disgusted in me, walking around in men's clothing? Did I look scandalous in my outfit? Was my voice not as beautiful as it had been the night before?

But after Carlotta walked across stage, singing the first two little lines, she was greeted with stupid and wild applause, to which Carlotta responded to by breaking character and giving a small curtsy.

I knew what was going on immediately. Carlotta must have called in favors to save her reputation, calling on all of her adoring and loyal fans to come pay her endless admirations. Her ego must be flattered after losing her fame after my performance, and the entire company quickly grew offended at Carlotta's obvious disregard to the rest of the cast.

I didn't even need to respond to this, for others in the cast began making their feelings known. A man walked too closely to Carlotta onstage, stepping on her dress, almost causing her to falter. The chorus girls began singing louder and louder, hoping to drown out Carlotta's voice, to no avail. One man went as far as to ignore her when he was meant to hand her a prop, but Carlotta seemed to know that they would react like this, and she continued to twirl and sing as if no one else mattered at all.

But while this made me want to sing with all of my might, to show Carlotta I would not be overcome by her, my eyes caught sight of a deathly pale Raoul and his brother sitting in their box. I was horrified that I had forgotten him in my determination to perform better than Carlotta. Had he really looked that pale last night? What was he doing here? He should be at his home, in bed, resting from whatever had happened to him in Perros. I knew why he had come here though. He wanted to hear me sing, even though he was in danger of catching a sickness and dying as a result of being found half frozen to death in a graveyard. I almost began crying onstage out of my terrible guilt.

I began singing with fear in my voice, being unable to find my stable peace within me. My singing reflected that, and I could see Carlotta smirking to herself as I struggled to keep singing. But by the grace of my Angel, my part wasn't for much longer, and I was soon offstage trying not to cry from guilt and defeat.

No one spoke to me, so I was in a quiet place as Carlotta began the famous Jewel song. Watching her made me sick, for she didn't give poor Marguerite a single thought in her performance, only her own fame and glory. She sang fully turned to the audience, making eye contact with all of them, openly singing to individuals. She sang the words absentmindedly as she twirled around the stage, and as the song went on, she became more and more suggestive with her movements. I was horrified watching her transform Marguerite from a shy, kind, and dreamy young girl to a flashy and shameless seductress. She pounded her feet and moved her hips in ways that had nothing to do with the song, and just when I thought she would make me violently ill, she threw herself over the bench, lying on her side like a catlike temptress. How I hated her for ripping the virtue and goodness from Marguerite…_My_ Marguerite.

She neared the ending of the song, and all of a sudden, without any warning…

"Croak!"

I gasped and my hands flew over my mouth, horrified. Everyone onstage looked just as horrified, freezing in place. The audience looked dumbfounded, unsure if they should believe that the great and famous Carlotta had really produced a sound like…like a disgusting toad!

She looked as stunned as all of us, but she tried to start over, perhaps disbelief making it impossible for her to realize what she had just done. She started again, but soon enough, another terrible sound came from her lips. Another sound, and another, and then at last it seemed as if every time she opened her mouth, a sound of a toad would burst from her mouth, and soon, even her allies in the audience were doubled over with laughter.

She couldn't stand the humiliation any longer, and she ran passed me to the very back, collapsing to the floor in tears. As amused as I was, as glad as I was that Carlotta had finally been humbled, as offended as I was that she would plot against me and torture Marguerite as she had…My satisfaction vanished very quickly.

Carlotta broke down before the entire company backstage. She crumbled before us and began sobbing to herself, and as no one could forgive her enough to comfort her, she sobbed alone. She shook violently in grief, weeping desperately as the realization that the great Carlotta, the Prima Donna of Paris, had fallen. Her career had taken a mortal blow, and she would not recover from this.

"I am _ruined._" She sobbed. "I am _nothing_ now."

I couldn't help but to let go of all of my contempt for her. As much as I had despised her, I never wanted something like this to happen. I realized that I didn't hate her enough to force this upon her, and I would have happily allowed her to remain her silly, cruel self if it would mean she wouldn't have to suffer as she did in that moment.

Finally, one of the actors came to her to help her to her feet, and the young man helped the broken woman back to her dressing room. I felt only pity and regret for the woman who had lost the only thing she had ever valued.

It was silent backstage for a few moments, and the audience had begun to calm down as well. I was standing close enough to the stage to hear what came next.

"She is singing to bring down the chandelier!"

I turned immediately in shock. That was my Angel's voice! I had heard my Angel's voice ringing throughout the Opera House! I thought I was the only one to hear it again, but everyone backstage began rushing to where I was, to look out to the audience, and I knew I wasn't the only one to hear him. But I did not stay still to think about it. I rushed to the stage, moving the curtains aside just in time to see the large chandelier swinging back and forth in the air. I only had time to gasp before the large chandelier broke off and fell in slow motion on top of screaming people in the audience.

There was a horrible and terrible laugh throughout the Opera House.

I screamed as I saw the chandelier burst into pieces, and I nearly fainted when I saw a man screaming that his wife was underneath the large chandelier, but before I was lost to the blackness, someone tugged me backwards. I was dragged away by Madame Giry, who would not slow down even as I began to sob because of the terror of what I had just witnessed. The Opera House became a cage of screaming, and people were rushing passed us in every direction, but Madame Giry pulled me through all of it, pausing only in front of my dressing room.

"Christine, you are to stay here, do you understand? You are not to leave this room."

"But Madame, I cannot! I must leave this place, I cannot stay-" I was becoming hysterical with crying, but Madame Giry took my arms in her hands and shook me until I was quiet.

"Christine! I don't care why you think you must leave; you will stay in this room! You are not safe right now…" She said in a hushed and panicked tone. She looked all around her, with her wild eyes darting from one side direction to another, before shoving me into my dressing room.

"This is for your own good, Christine. I'm trying to keep you safe." And she closed my door, looking it from the outside. I was locked in my room, with no explanation for why I was now trapped or why the chandelier had fallen on innocent people. My cries began more and more violent as I ran to my door, begging to be let out again, but she did not unlock it.

I could hear screaming and running outside, and only every once in awhile did I hear Madame Giry pushing people away from my door. She was guarding me?

I slid down against my door, sobbing in my hands. I thought about all of the poor people in the audience, and I jumped a little when I realized that Raoul had been in the audience tonight. But I quickly remembered that he was in a special box, too high to be harmed by the fallen chandelier. I relaxed only for a moment, before remembering that while Raoul was not harmed, my Angel was still at the performance! I had heard him speak to everyone, not just me, but I was shocked to find that while I recognized the voice, I did not recognize the horrible laughing that accompanied it, the sinister and wicked tone that taunted the people right before the chandelier fell. It was his voice, but how could it still be my Angel?

I stood, calling out for my Angel, begging him to come to me. I heard nothing for several moments, but before I could call out to him again, I heard my beautiful father's violin again. My sobbing stopped immediately, and I was filled once again with heavenly love and peace. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, letting the music wash over me in warmth and love, wrapping me in it, rocking me away from this world. My Angel's voice broke through my haze to tell me to go to my mirror, for the time for me to leave this mortal world behind was at hand.

"I am taking you home, my darling. Those mortals do not deserve you…and I am taking you home."

I was unafraid of obeying, even if that meant my death, for I knew that at last, I was to be with my Angel. The violin never ceased, and soon my Angel was singing to me with more glory and passion than I had ever thought possible. I was breathing in this music, feeding off of it, and I moved forward without any conscious thought of doing so. I was in a trance, beyond any thought or fear, moving toward my mirror and the music, knowing that I would be soon in the arms of my Angel, in the arms of music itself. I would be carried away to my father and mother, to be with all of them for all eternity, finally with my family once more, never to be an orphan again.

Just before I reached my mirror, I wondered if Angels were allowed to marry in Heaven, for I wanted to belong to my Angel for all eternity.

I reached out my hand, not paying any attention to the fact that it was still solid glass, still absorbed by my Angel's music. I could feel it all around me, caressing me, moving through me, touching every inch of my body and reaching deep into my soul, blinding me as the glass melted away from me as I walked right through it.

The music stopped as I crossed the threshold of my mirror. I heard a crash behind me, and I turned around to see the clear wall of glass showing me my dressing room, but as I touched it, it would not move. I looked into it, slowly breaking out of my trance to realize that my mirror was a window into my little dressing room, and I was now on the unknown side of the mirror. I turned around to look at only darkness, looking back and forth for any signs of light, but there was only cold darkness in any direction I turned. I was deadly confused, and fear began to creep it's way into my mind. Shadows began moving around me, even without the light, and my breathing quickened to the point where I could barely get enough air in my lungs.

"Angel?" I called out weakly. Where did he go? Where was I? In all of this darkness, where was my Angel?

"Angel, please…Where are you?" I asked again.

Something cold and hard wrapped itself around my wrist, even though I could not see anything near me. It pulled me away from the dim light of my dressing room, before I try to pull my arm away, and it began dragging me into the darkness. I cried out and began to struggle, but the cold vice would not budge or even slow as I fought. An arm went around my waist and began pulling me along so fast that it was nearly carrying me further and further away from my dressing room. I struggled and fought, but soon it was obvious that I wasn't going to get away, for even though I fought with all of my might, my dressing room was getting further and further away, and we were getting closer and closer to a dim red light in the distance.

I fought until I was gasping for breath, trying desperately to get out of this death grip, but we were soon fully underneath the red light, and I could only vaguely see the dim light from the glass of my dressing room. I turned myself in the arms of the man, for it became clear that he had no intention of stopping beneath the light, moving passed as quickly as possible to cross into the darkness beyond it. I turned to see who it was dragging me so forcefully, but I was unprepared to see what had it's arm around my waist.

I was suddenly face to face with a black mask that glowed in the red light above us, surrounded by a black cape that caught wind that I didn't feel blowing. He stopped moving for a moment as I gazed up at him, taking in who it was dragging me away into darkness, too shocked to even form a thought. His grip on my wrist never softened, but he lowered his arm to rest on the small of my back, supporting me as I leaned back to look at the dominatingly tall figure.

I looked straight into his eyes, which glowed in the red light. It was as if the lights were miles away behind his mask, and I could not look away. In my head, as I gaped as this figure completely in black, in this hellish red light, surrounded by cold darkness, in the arms of a man with hands like a skeleton…I began to hear laughter in my head again. The laughter of the chorus girls made my heart beat against my chest so hard that it beat the air out of me. I was surrounded in darkness, in the arms of a man in a black mask, and only a moment after the laughter started, it changed into a different laugh. I heard Joseph Buquet's laughter in my head, all around me, and I began pulling away from the figure in horror. I opened my mouth to finally scream for help, using the last bit of air left in me to scream, when his hand moved from around my wrist to cover my mouth, preventing me from screaming, and it smelt of cold stone and earth, like the scent of the graveyard where I visited my father.

Suddenly the laughter changed again from Buquet's voice to the sinister laughter I had just heard before the chandelier's fall…my Angel's wicked laugh…

I fell back into my mind, into my own darkness, closing my eyes as it all just fell away. The red light disappeared, as did the terrifying man in the mask, and just as I began to feel as if I were floating, I heard a beautiful cry from someone shouting my name from far, far away…


	30. Man

I floated through darkness, feeling my body move back and forth, until everything went still. My head felt chilly and wet suddenly, which made me shiver, but I clung to the darkness. A sharp chemical scent jolted me awake, stabbing my senses until I was coughing to rid myself of the terrible smell. My eyes fluttered open, but I had to blink a little to push back the haze that blurred my vision. But the darkness around me never really faded, and I realized that it wasn't my sight that was hazy, but darkness itself. The most powerful darkness I had ever known surrounded me, and even though I could tell a small lantern was nearby, the tiny light was nearly helpless against the thick blackness.

I strained to look above me, and I found two glowing lights looking back at me from behind a black mask, the last thing in the memory before I had fell into darkness. His mask reflected the soft, pure white light of the little lantern now, instead of the hellish red light I remembered from before, but I couldn't trust that I wasn't afraid anymore. My senses were completely alert, yet my mind and heart enjoyed a warm numbness that made me indifferent to fear or the sense to struggle against him. I casually realized that I might be under the influence of some kind of drug.

The man was bathing my forehead in cool water that came from a fountain in the wall, running in a little steam next to me before disappearing into the darkness. He moved from my forehead to rub my temples, and even though I could not see his face because of the mask, I knew that he was concerned for me.

'An odd thing…' I wondered to myself, becoming only a little curious before the drug dulled my interest again.

My head was resting against his knee, and I could feel the cool ground underneath me. While he soothed me by massaging my temples, I was almost tempted to close my eyes…but I again caught the scent of his graveyard hands, and even the thick chemicals that numbed my heart were not able to keep me from having a burst of panic. I pushed his hands away, weakly, feeling him move along with my wishes rather than submit to any strength used against him, for I had no strength to offer.

"Angel…" I called out softly. I took a deeper breath, trying to give a louder shout. "Angel…save me…"

I felt him move, only sighing in reply to my cries. He said nothing, but put his arms around me, lifting me up to a sitting position. My head fell forward, too dizzy to be held up. He lifted me into his arms, and I gave no other hint of protest except a small moan, knowing that I should fight him, yet too indifferent to really care.

He took a few steps with me in his arms, moving away from the only light we had, never pausing except for a brief moment when I let my dizzy head fall against his shoulder. He froze only a moment in response, no doubt absorbing the voluntary contact, before continuing through the darkness. Moments passed, and soon a shuffling noise made me lift my head and look up, finding that a large white shape was materializing before us.

"Cesar?" I asked, but my fuzzy mind was unable to think passed my confusion.

The man in the mask did not acknowledge me, lifting me to sit in the saddle of the large creature. I was still in my Siebal costume, so I was able to sit comfortably on the horse without the need to sit sidesaddle. But I found myself feeling numb and loose, too relaxed and indifferent to even hold myself up in the saddle. I leaned forward on the horse, almost laying down on him, but something cold caught me and held me up. I blinked as much as I could to focus on the man holding me up gently in the saddle, but all I could see was the outline of his black mask, gazing up at me in the impossibly dim light.

The man clicked his tongue and the horse moved forward immediately. I looked around, numb from whatever chemical had been given to me, and my mind was dulled to do little more than casually watch the dark hallways and caves pass me by. We turned on a spiral staircase for what seemed like hours, but I had no idea how long it actually took to descend the many, many floors of the Opera House.

There were traces of lights as we passed, but only small traces. Once, we passed a large crack in the ceiling that was ripped apart with light, but I heard no sound, and I didn't think to scream for help.

The man in the mask never released me, holding me up as Cesar walked without direction, familiar with the route. It grew colder as we continued, and even though my heart could not feel fear, my body shook with the fidget air. Slowly, I could feel my thoughts move faster and faster, the cold air slowly pulling me out of my chemical haze.

The air was moist suddenly, and I lifted my head to look out upon a blue lake with faint lights glowing all about the water. Although I knew that there was a lake somewhere beneath the many levels of the Opera, I never had thought I would one day see it for myself. It was said to be farther than any person dared to go, and it was rumored that the last level of the Opera House, the dreaded fifth level, ended in a lake. No one knew what was on the other side of the lake.

The man holding me up suddenly tugged me off the horse, causing me to fall over in his arms. I gasped in surprise, and then again when he held me to him tightly, cradling me as if I were a child. He turned with me to a boat on a small dock, holding me at such an angle that I could look at the tiny boat and then back at the white horse getting further and further away.

My mind began to really think about my situation, absorbing everything that was happening to me. I knew that it was rumored that Cesar had been stolen by the Phantom, and I knew that the Phantom was rumored to live down in the fifth level, where the lake was also rumored to be. Slowly, I put together that I was indeed on the fifth level, with a horse that was stolen by the Opera Ghost, and the realization of my true situation drove my terrible haze out of my mind and heart.

I was too frightened and too shocked to move within his arms, even as he lowered me into the boat and laid me down on thick, feathered pillows. He unfolded a thick blanket and covered me to keep warm, but I only shivered more because he took the time to tuck me in, to ensure my comfort. It was a tender gesture, and he seemed to do it with sincere concern, but the gentleness of it was somehow even more horrible than the cruelty he had shown me while dragging me from my dressing room. I didn't dare to move underneath him, even when he moved his cold graveyard smelling hands to move some of my escaped hair out of my face.

He moved back suddenly, moving to fiddle with the rope that held the boat to the dock. Realizing he intended to take off with me in the boat, I pushed off the blanket and rushed to sit up. I then scrambled to stand up, planning to leap onto the dock and try and escape, but he was far too quick for me to even hope to even make it out of the boat.

I only made it to my knees before the man, realizing I meant to escape, untied the rope from the dock and leapt on the tiny boat, his landing shoving the boat forward in the water. I fell back from the impact, hitting the pillows again, but I struggled to get back up, desperately and stupidly hoping that I would not be too late to save myself.

I heard the man click his tongue again, and I watched in horror as the beautiful white horse turned away and started back up the path.

"No!" I cried softly. I didn't know the way back without him. Why couldn't the horse understand that I needed help?

I turned to look up at the man standing on the other side of the boat, rowing the boat further into the water before I could think of another way to get out. He never took his eyes off of me as I looked all around the dark, still water for anything, any hint to how I was to get out of this horrible situation, but there was nothing for me. There were very few lights as the boat went further and further into the darkness, but there was enough light for me to see that the water led only to stone walls, with nothing to even hold onto should I swim to one of them. I looked over the side of the boat into the water, which was so dark that I couldn't even see my reflection on the surface. It became clear that I would never be able to escape him while trapped in the boat. I grew afraid of the black, lifeless water that led to nothing, and I knew that it was hopeless to escape him from diving into this strange lake. I didn't even know how to swim.

I was trapped, with the man that I was beginning to expect…I couldn't fool myself anymore…

But it couldn't be! He was a tangible man, flesh and blood, despite the fact that he was hidden by a mask. How can a man be a ghost? What would a Phantom want with me?

"Angel, help me! Angel, you promised me…" I was near tears, but I shivered so violently that I couldn't produce any tears.

The man stopped rowing, suddenly leaning over me, causing me to shrink back as far as I could get from him. He simply picked up the blanket I had pushed aside and laid it across my cowering figure. He never touched me, and immediately stood up again, making me grateful that he didn't hover.

I said nothing, but his gesture gave me just enough hope to sit up in the boat and pull the blanket around me, accepting the warmth it brought. I sat still and quiet after that, looking around the increasingly dark cave with fear and anxiety, and he still never looked away from me. He never slowed in his rowing, save once when I accidentally made eye contact, causing him to freeze instantly, letting the boat slow to a stop. I looked away immediately, and he then continued to row.

Soon, it became so dark that I could no longer see the man, the water, or even my own hands in front of me. We hit something, and the boat was still, no longer swaying lightly in the water. I waited for something to happen, but for several moments, I only waited in darkness.

Suddenly, I was seized, taken up in his arms again, and carried on land. I struggled against him, wanting to be released, but he held me with the blanket still wrapped around me and my hands were trapped in the thick fabric. I struggled nevertheless, not caring if I were dropped on the ground as long as he released me. I doubt he even had to adjust his grip.

The sound of a door opening was followed by sudden dazzling light that blinded me for several moments. I shut my eyes and opened them again, repeating this several times, trying to adjust to the bright light, stunned into stillness as I looked around me. The masked man carried me into the room, stopping in the middle of it all, making no move to put me down, but I didn't make any move to get away from him either.

We were in a very polished and regal drawing room. The walls, although stone, had been carved and polished to look like dark marble that swirled in graceful patterns all around the room. The furniture was of the most elegant and beautiful style I had ever seen, each looking like it had been individually crafted into the most perfect mold of itself. Everything was crafted by dark marble, with nothing made from wood that I could see, but almost all of the cold and polished surfaces of the stone were covered by cushions and blankets of deep red, gold, and royal blue. The styles were all unique, save for a few curtains and rugs, which were of Persian style, but it all went together rather beautifully, even if the room gave a dark and intimidating impression. Candles and gas lamps covered the room, filling every corner with blinding light, but all of the candles were brand new, still high from being only recently lit. But covering the room, from floor to ceiling, were flowers of every shape and color. There were dozens of every flower I knew of and many that I couldn't name, with large silk ribbons tight around each individual flower. The room, in all of its humorless, dark elegance, was made to look silly with all of the over civilized flowers.

I realized that the man was still holding me, and he gave no hint of an intention to put me down, and I immediately began struggling again. He put me down as gently as possible, and because I was still in my costume with pants, I was able to swing my legs to the floor without bothering about modesty.

I backed away from him, looking around his tall figure to see that if there had ever been a door that had allowed us through, it was gone now. I looked back up to his masked face, and we stared at each other for several moments silently. Finally, he spoke to me.

"Do not be afraid, Christine," He said, saying my name as if he were speaking about a worshiped deity, "for you are in no danger."

It was the voice! My Angel's voice was coming out of a seemingly mortal man in front of me, the man that I had suspected to be a demon only moments ago. He was a frighteningly unusual figure, but obviously as human as I was. I fought with myself, begging not to believe it, demanding that I must keep my faith because it was only another test. I was tempted to call out to my Angel again, but how could I? Even when my heart begged me not to even consider that my Angel was a fraud, how could I deny it?

That mask…I hated it! My Angel's voice came from a man behind a mask, but I couldn't even look at the real creature that sang to me over the past few months. The mask held the answers, I knew it! If I could look at the face of the man with my Angel's voice, I was sure to know him, to understand him, to finally know if he was a man or an Angel. It would solve everything.

I rushed at him, reaching out to grab the mask, but his hand caught my wrist.

"You are in no danger so long as you do not touch the mask." His tone was defeating and frightening, and I could do nothing but shake in response.

He didn't let go of me. He took my other wrist in his free hand and began dragging me to a sofa, backing me into it until I was sitting in the middle of the loveseat. I briefly thought that the cushion covering was very comfortable, despite the fact that the rest of the sofa was made completely out of marble, but after this observation, my thoughts were consumed by the man holding my wrists.

He knelt before me, still holding my wrists, but said nothing else. I just stared at this man, this human being in front of me, realizing that I couldn't deny this anymore. I didn't think of the danger I might be in, nor did I think about the horrible reason why a man might trap a young woman where no one could hear her screams. I didn't think about how I might die down here and no one would ever know what happened to me.

My only thought was how my Angel of Music was not real.

I began to cry, realizing that my most beloved friend and mentor was a fraud. My devotion and love had gone to a masked imposter. My father had never sent me an Angel to protect me. I was a lost and unimportant little orphan in the world again.

The man began to cry as well, only his sobs were even deeper than my own.

"It's true, my dearest Christine…I am not an Angel of Music, nor am I a Phantom, or even a genius…I am only a man in love with you…I am only your faithful Erik."

I said nothing at his confession, and we both continued to cry. He held my wrists between his long, impossibly slender fingers, as if he were afraid to give them back to me.

"Forgive me, Christine! I beg you, forgive me. I never wanted to deceive you or ever cause you pain. I am selfish and wicked for lying to you like this, but I never meant any harm!"

He had to stop, to calm himself from sobbing so violently. I began taking deep breaths to calm myself, for I was growing a bit alarmed by how terrible he sounded, how lost and ashamed he was. I tried to calm myself in the hopes of soothing him, for although I was a prisoner here, robbed of her most beloved Angel, I found myself feeling sorry for the man kneeling before me.

I had never seen a grown man cry before. He admitted his wrongdoing without making any excuses for himself. It was unbelievably honest, but it did not change the situation.

"Christine, dearest Christine, I know I have wronged you. But believe me when I tell you that…it was all for love! I am in love with you, Christine Daae, with all of my soul, to my very core…with my very music do I love you! I deceived you…pretending I was your Angel…a greedy and shameful thing to do to such an innocent…out of love for you. I taught you all I could, to help you find your music again…We are souls composed of music, alike and connected. I knew it from the moment I saw you…"

No one had ever confessed such emotion to me before, not even Raoul. My old friend confessed his love casually and delicately, as if he were whispering gossip or slander. But I had never seen such open passion, such aggressive emotion before, and especially not directed at me. My recent Parisian upbringing told me to be disgusted by it, but my loving, free childhood, raised by a most gentle and compassionate father, made me pity him.

"I wish I could bear it, Christine…I wish I was strong enough to bear being apart from you, to leave you in peace. But I am not…I need you with me, to share my wretched existence with, and I am thoroughly wicked for it. Forgive my selfishness, Christine, forgive me…If you only knew how I tried to live without you…How I tried to be content as only your Angel…But I couldn't and now I have wronged you, my dearest love, the one that I treasure most in this world…I loath myself for your pain…"

I wept for him! I turned my head away, not wanting him to see that my tears of sorrow and despair had changed into tears of pity and compassion. I didn't want to feel sorry for this man…Erik…who had kidnapped and imprisoned me beneath the Opera House, who confessed his love without asking permission to do so. I did not want to sympathize with him…If I was to ever be free again, I needed to be remain firm in my determination and not be influenced by tears and words of love. He had already fooled me once.

I stood up from the sofa, and he quickly moved back to give me space, but he did not rise immediately. He didn't let go of my wrists, but he was so tall, and his arms were so long, that he held them easily.

"Whoever you are…And for whatever reason you have brought me here…I promise you that I can only ever despite and hate you for what you have done if you do not set me free immediately." I wanted to seem strong and powerful, but tears fell down my face, my voice quivered, and my knees shook. I stood as tall as I could though, trying desperately to look unquestionable and intimidating.

He looked up at me from the floor, making no sound or movement. He had ceased crying, and for a few seconds, I thought he would refuse me.

"Of course, Christine, I could never bear it if you were to hate me." He said in a calm and steady voice. "If you wish it, I will show you the way back. If you wish, you can be free right now…"

I stupidly wondered how he could think that I would actually consider staying with him. I was naïve and believed him, thinking that when he finally stood up, it was to show me the way back to my dressing room. But he did not turn to lead me home. He turned towards a small harp sitting on an end table, picking it up and immediately beginning to pluck a few strings. I was able to keep my thoughts my own for only a few moments longer, but I was lost once he began singing.

He sang the Willow Song of Desdemona, a song that he had taught me during one of our lessons. I remembered the song well, although I had never sung it with such beauty and passion as this man did. He turned to me with his harp, calling me to him, and I had to follow him and his voice.

The music that he produced was more than music. It was a blinding force, dominating my senses until I felt as if I was being transformed into a blind-mute, unable to sense anything other than his singing. My senses adjusted themselves to the power until I felt as if all of me was being changed to focus on hearing the music better, molding myself into it until I could not just hear it, but see, feel, smell, and taste his music too. He sang of such love, such sadness and devotion, that I could barely believe that I had ever physically or spiritually felt anything before this moment in my entire life.

I followed him, giving no thought to where he was leading me. By the end of the song, I had a moment where I regained my senses long enough to realizing we were in a completely different room, but before I could apply more of my attention to this, he began a song that I was unfamiliar with, but the tender melody and the loving, amorous voice took me over again.

I have no idea when I fell asleep, nor did I even realizing that I had been sleeping at all, until I woke up, alone, on a rose pink chaise longue in a simple bedroom, covered in a pink blanket that was as soft as rose petals, yet as warm as wool.


	31. Sorry

I am sorry! This is not a new chapter, but rather an update to the story. I will not be continuing this story (wait, don't be alarmed, keep reading!) through _Dearest_ but I will be creating a new story that picks up where this one leaves off. It is unusual, I know, and I apologize, but it is a compromise to a problem that I have been struggling with.

I started this story a long, long time ago. I am now unhappy with this story because it no longer reflects my writing. This story is an evolution of my writing style, and it has been a great help in growing as a writer and curing occasional writer's block, but I can't continue this story chapter by chapter until I edit and fix the rest of it.

By that I mean that I will merely be continuing this story in a "Part 1" and "Part 2" type of way, continuing right where I left off, but in a way that new readers won't need to read the beginning to enjoy the second part. I really, really need to edit _Dearest_, but I don't want to leave the story unfinished.

So the compromise is finishing the story in another story while editing _Dearest _to my heart's content without annoying the readers to death.

So to summarize, look for my new story VERY SOON (meaning before Christmas), but _Dearest_ will no longer be updated with new Chapters. The other story will continue right where I left off in _Dearest, _so my long time readers (I love you dearly!) will not be left with yet another unfinished Phan story.

Love you all, Stay tuned for the next part,

Adela Rose


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